Lost and Found
by amabethchase
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Emma Swan is on the run from her old foster parents, and ends up in Storybrooke. Will she find a home here? And can she be convinced to believe in time to break the curse?
1. Lies

**Chapter One**

Emma couldn't see much due to the rain, but she could just barely make out a big green sign: _Welcome to Storybrooke._

She snickered. What a stupid name for a town.

But it was a town, she reminded herself, with people, with shelter, and food, if she could find the money to pay for any of it. She was exhausted, though, and couldn't even see the beginnings of Storybrooke down the road, which meant it must be far. Too far for her to walk now.

She trudged off the side of the road and explored the edge of the forest, looking for anything remotely resembling a kind of shelter. All she needed was a place to sleep for a few hours, out of the downpour. She'd come so far, and it felt a little lazy to rest now, but if she continued on to the town she might pass out on the road. And _that _would be much worse than sleeping under a tree.

The only thing worse, Emma thought, would be getting caught. She'd come _much _too far to let that happen.

She finally found a massive oak tree whose giant branches shielded its roots mostly from the rain; a steady drizzle still poured down on her, but it was better than nothing. She wanted to extract her blanket from her backpack; it was freezing. But it was the only thing she'd kept her whole life, and she didn't want to ruin it. Not that she'd ever admitted this to any of her foster siblings, or planned to admit it to anyone in the future, but that blanket was the only thing she had left of her parents. She was going to hold onto it as long as possible.

She leaned back against the soggy tree, listening to thunder clap violently overhead. A strip of white lightning flashed in the distance. Maybe this wasn't the safest place to be, but it was certainly safer than the second foster home she'd been to.

She didn't know exactly what she hoped to find in Storybrooke; she'd always figured that if she walked long enough away from Boston, her old life, she could find a new one in a smaller town. That she could lie, say she was eighteen, get a job and buy an apartment. Get enough money to build something of a life for herself, and maybe eventually move back to Boston for college or a better job. Now, though, she had her doubts; what if no one in Storybrooke believed her? What if they turned her in? She didn't think she could handle that. Not after she'd fought so hard to break free from the foster system.

Just as she was dozing off, headlights startled her back awake. A car engine rumbled; she opened her eyes and saw a cop car stop just short of the _Welcome to Storybrooke _sign. Panic prickled all over her skin; Emma was terrified of cops. Cops could send her back.

A tall, lanky guy in a bomber jacket, not a police uniform, stepped out. Emma stood slowly, cautiously; it was still raining, but that wouldn't muffle the sound of her crunching along the forest floor completely. She was just beginning to think that she'd get away when the cop flicked on a huge flashlight. He swung it around back and forth, searching the forest for something. Emma didn't have time to wonder what it was before the light landed directly on her.

"Hey!" The cop called as she started running. "Hey, come back here! I won't hurt you! I'm just looking for my friend's dog!" He had an accent; maybe Australian? Emma wasn't sure, but she did know she had to get away.

"Who are you?" The cop began chasing her, running much faster than she could. Emma veered right, but a tree root above the already slippery ground caught her right foot by surprise. She tried to catch her balance and failed, starting to fall, but someone grabbed hold of her arm, saving her.

"You all right?" He asked her. "What are you doing out here?"

_Running from the cops and my former foster mother. _

"I . . . I'm lost," Emma lied. "I was out for a run earlier and . . . and I got lost."

He released her arm, and she stepped back, taking him in. There was no denying it: this guy was attractive. But he was older, probably in his mid-twenties, and besides, Emma knew she shouldn't be thinking like that right now.

He raised an eyebrow; clearly he was skeptical. "I'm Graham," he said. "I'm the town sheriff."

"Emma," she said.

"Why don't we get you back to town?" He said. "You can call your parents to come pick you up."

"No!" She said too quickly. "I . . . They won't. I'm staying with my cousin here."

"Oh?" Graham raised an eyebrow. "Who's that?"

_Great._

"Uh, you know," Emma said, trying not to look panicked. "Dark hair, really nice, likes to wear sweaters."

"Mary Margaret?"

"Yes!" Emma hoped this Mary Margaret person wouldn't be contacted about this.

"Come on," he said, and started back for the road. "I'll take you into town."

Emma was grateful for the ride, honestly; maybe once she got to Storybrooke she could find some place to stay. An abandoned shed, maybe, like the one she'd stayed in the night she ran away.

Being in a cop car set her on edge; the last time she was in one, she was strapped into a carseat in the back. She was four, and she was supposed to be headed to her new parents' house. But the adoption fell through at the very last minute, and she'd never seen someone so disappointed as her foster parents upon her return home that day. It had crushed Emma her whole life, feeling like no one wanted her. It wasn't just that she _felt _that way either; no one did. But at least she was out of that house, she reminded herself. At least she was free.

"Where do you live, Emma?" Graham asked, after a moment of awkward silence. Even the radio was off; apparently there wasn't much crime in Storybrooke.

"Boston," she said, "but I'm staying with Mary Margaret for awhile."

"You going to school here?"

_I hope not. _"Yes."

"Mary Margaret's very nice," he said. "She's probably out looking for Pongo right now, too."

"Pongo?"

"Our friend Archie's dog. He's the town therapist."

"The dog?"

Graham chuckled. "Archie. Hopefully you won't be spending too much time with him."

Emma shuddered. She'd seen a therapist twice, when she was in a rich foster family who thought talking about her problems would make them disappear. She'd been diagnosed with abandonment issues and anxiety, things she didn't need a doctor to tell her.

They reached the town. It was nice and quaint, Emma thought, clutching her soaking wet backpack to her chest. She now understood why, however stupidly, it was named Storybrooke. It looked like something from an old fairytale, with the clock tower and little diner and colorful houses. The clock rang out suddenly, chiming loudly, and Graham's eyes widened; he nearly drove the car onto the sidewalk.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked.

"It's just . . ." He shook his head. "That clock hasn't moved since I've been here."

"Huh," Emma said. "Weird."

"Well, here you are," Graham said, pulling up to the curb in front of an old brick building. "Mary Margaret's place."

"Ah, yes," Emma said. "Looks familiar."

"See you around, Emma," Graham said as she climbed out of the car. She nodded and waved, he waved back, but even after she shut the door he lingered in his car. Was he waiting to make sure she made it in safely? No one had ever shown her that much concern, not even people she'd known for years.

She headed up to the building, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulders. The side door was open, and she stepped hesitantly inside. A blast of warmth hit her, and she was grateful; she rung out her hair and the hem of her old sweater. All she had to do was wait until this Graham guy drove off.

The door opened, surprising Emma, and in walked the woman she'd described: dark hair cropped short, light purple sweater under a heavy raincoat, bright smile. That could be, of course, because she was holding hands with a guy, who looked very much enamored with her.

"I'll see you tomorrow," the woman said, seemingly unaware of Emma's presence in the building's ugly florescent-lit lobby.

"7:15," the guy replied, bending down to kiss her again.

_Ugh_, Emma thought. She found PDA nauseating and unnecessary.

He mumbled something else, she laughed, and he finally left. The woman shut the door after him, turned around and gave a little yelp at the sight of Emma.

"Uh, hello!" She said. "I . . . wasn't expecting to see anyone here at this time of night!"

"I just needed a break from the rain," Emma said.

"You're out in this weather?" Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow. But rather than suspicious, she just looked concerned.

"I'm heading home," Emma said.

"I don't believe we've met before," Mary Margaret said, extending a hand. "I'm Mary Margaret."

"Emma," Emma said, shaking it briefly.

"Emma," the woman said, smiling. "I like that name."

"Anyways," Emma said, "I'd better get back home to, uh, my cousin."

"Who's your cousin?"

"I . . ." Emma was great at lying; it came naturally to her. But she couldn't imagine lying to someone as innocent as Mary Margaret. "I . . ."

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Mary Margaret asked.

"No," Emma admitted. "I . . . I ran away. I was in a foster home, well, a lot of them actually, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to leave, even though I have no idea where I am . . . I'm sorry," she said, heading for the door. "I'll leave now."

"No!" Mary Margaret said immediately. "No, don't go! If you haven't got anywhere to stay, you're welcome to stay with me."

"That's too much to ask," Emma said.

"No," Mary Margaret argued. "It's no trouble. I live alone, and there's plenty of room in my apartment."

Emma hesitated.

"I should go," she said. She knew that. She didn't know if she could trust this woman; what if she turned her in? What if she kicked her out tomorrow? Emma didn't like relying on other people.

"I insist," said Mary Margaret, stepping in front of the door. "Please stay. I can't just let you out with no home."

"I've been living alone for a week," Emma said. "I can do it for awhile longer."

"You don't have to," Mary Margaret said. "At least come inside and get some dry clothes. You can tell me your story."

"I don't have a _story_," Emma said. "I just ran away."

"Well, it's the most interesting life story I've heard about in a long time," Mary Margaret smiled. "I'm curious."

Emma, again, hesitated. The thought of dry clothes and a warm apartment was like a dream, but again, she didn't know whether or not to trust this woman. On the other hand, it didn't seem as if Mary Margaret was going to quit anytime soon, so really, Emma's only option was to follow her upstairs.

"All right," Emma finally agreed, "But I can't stay for long."


	2. Hot Chocolate

**Chapter Two**

Mary Margaret led Emma upstairs to her apartment.

"It's not much," she said, "but it's big enough for two."

Emma didn't know what to say. She couldn't believe how accommodating this woman was; she hadn't been treated with this much kindness her whole life. Six different foster homes, nothing like this. And she'd only known her for five minutes.

Mary Margaret unlocked the door and Emma followed her inside; it wasn't huge, but it had a warm, homey feel that Emma had craved her whole life. There were no screaming kids, no bullying teenagers, no practically rabid animals out to get her. There was just a nice little kitchen and a living room, and stairs that presumably led up to a bedroom or two. Emma felt an ache in her chest; she wished she could stay here.

"I'll make some hot chocolate," Mary Margaret said, peeling off her coat and hanging it up by the door. "First, I'll get you some warm clothes."

Emma nodded, and watched her go upstairs. She was hesitant to set her backpack down; it was soaked, and she didn't want to ruin anything. She didn't want Mary Margaret to be angry with her.

She searched the apartment for any information it may reveal about its owner. She gathered that Mary Margaret liked birds, as there were a few paintings of them scattered around, but other than that she couldn't determine much. The kitchen was clean. The living room was nearly spotless. Maybe she didn't spend as much time here as she did at someone else's house, like a boyfriend's. Like the guy in the lobby.

"I hope these fit," she said, returning to the doorway, where Emma lingered awkwardly. "The bathroom's right over there-" she pointed, "I'll wash those clothes when you're done getting dressed. And your bag, too, if you want."

"Thank you," Emma said, taking the clothes gratefully. She went off to the bathroom and eagerly peeled off her rain-soaked jeans, t-shirt and thin jacket. Mary Margaret had given her plaid flannel pants-pajama pants. She expected Emma to stay.

For a moment, Emma debated. Should she leave? She could sneak out with the excuse that she'd left something downstairs. But this woman had been so nice to her, and she'd lied to that cop, and at the same time, she didn't want to leave.

She decided to slip on the pajama pants and faded gray t-shirt. She tied her long blonde hair, which had begun to dry off already, into a ponytail. She examined her reflection in the mirror: there were dark purple circles under her hazel eyes, and she looked paler than usual. Oddly enough, she thought, she and Mary Margaret had a strikingly similar nose.

She emerged from the bathroom to the smell of hot chocolate, or at least what she assumed was hot chocolate. She'd never actually drunk it before. Usually the older kids at the foster homes got to all the good food before Emma could, or they hoarded it in their rooms, in their pillowcases. Emma usually reasoned that it was better to go without a Hershey's bar than to get punched in the nose.

"You can leave your shoes by the door," Mary Margaret said, "And I'll take those." She rushed over to take Emma's old clothes, and whisked them off to another room. It was a few minutes before Emma could hear the low rumble of a washing machine, and Mary Margaret returned, heading over to the stove.

Emma, hesitantly, followed her to the kitchen and sat gingerly in a barstool, the farthest one possible from where Mary Margaret stood.

"Do you like hot chocolate?" Mary Margaret said. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I should have asked."

"No, no," Emma assured her. "Hot chocolate is great."

She watched Mary Margaret turn off the stove and stir the dark tan liquid in the pot a bit more before pouring it into two mugs waiting on the counter. She sprinkled some cinnamon on top.

"Adds some extra flavor," she said, handing Emma a purple mug with multicolored hearts painted on it. "Hope you like it."

Emma set the mug down on the counter so it could cool off.

"So," said Mary Margaret, rounding the counter and taking a seat at the farthest chair from Emma. She appreciated that she was respecting her personal space. "Tell me how you ended up in Storybrooke."

"I ran away," Emma said. "The last foster home I was put in was awful, and I was there for two years. I was the youngest kid there, even at sixteen, and I was always bullied. The older kids would use me as their punching bag and there was nothing I could do about it. And my foster parents weren't any help. If anything, they encouraged it. They said I was just too weak."

"That's terrible," Mary Margaret said, her eyes shining with disbelief.

Emma shrugged. "I was sick of it. I knew they weren't going to help me pay for college, so what was the point of staying? And if I told them I wanted to leave, it would be no problem. I'd just get sent off to another, worse house, and regret saying anything at all.

So I took a bus out of the city, after school one day. I was getting food at this gas station about twenty minutes from here, and my foster mom was there; she'd been looking for me, though I wasn't sure why. I think it was because the cops thought they'd kicked me out, which could get them in trouble. I got away from her, though, and she called the police, so I couldn't get on another bus. I just walked, and I ended up here."

"That's . . . that's an interesting story," Mary Margaret said.

"And some cop caught me-"

"Graham?"

"Yeah, him. He saw me, and brought me back here."

"Why would he bring you to my house?" Mary Margaret asked.

"I, uh, I kind of told him you were my cousin I was staying with." Emma brought her gaze to the floor. This was her cue to leave, wasn't it? Mary Margaret would be infuriated that Emma had implicated her in a lie and kick her out, tell her not to bother sending the clothes back, she didn't want to see her again. She didn't care.

"I will gladly pretend to be your cousin," Mary Margaret said, surprising Emma, "for as long as you need."

"That's nice of you, but I really don't-"

"I mean it," Mary Margaret said firmly.

Emma couldn't bring herself to say anything else. She couldn't believe the generosity of this woman, and didn't know how to appropriately express her gratitude.

"Thank you," she said simply.

Mary Margaret smiled. "You're welcome."

"Can we talk about something else?" Emma asked cautiously. "I . . . I don't want to talk about me anymore."

"Done," Mary Margaret agreed. "Is there anything you want to know about Storybrooke?"

"Was that your boyfrienddownstairs?" Emma asked, unsure whether this would either break the ice between them or build a wall there.

To her relief, Mary Margaret just laughed. "Yes, Emma, you could say that."

"You both seem to really like each other," Emma offered.

"He's a great guy," she said. "His name is David."

"Good name," Emma said.

Mary Margaret nodded, smiling. "He works at the animal shelter. I've known him for a long time, but . . ." She sighed. "I don't know. Things have been going well. What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Oh, no," Emma said, shaking her head fervently. "Never."

"Well, there aren't many boys your age in this town," Mary Margaret said. "The school is very small. I suppose you'll need to be enrolled in school if you're staying?"

Emma realized this was a question. _Was _she staying?

"All right," she agreed. "But I really don't want to burden you."

"I don't want to hear that word from you again," Mary Margaret said. "This is no inconvenience. I'll sign you up tomorrow. What's your last name?"

"Swan," Emma said.

"Emma Swan," said Mary Margaret, smiling. "Sounds like a fairy tale character."

"Maybe I am one," Emma teased, "Just going through the crappy part of my story."

"Well, I'll do my best to change that," Mary Margaret said. "Tomorrow, I'll introduce you to everyone."

"Everyone?"

"You know, the town. Granny, Ruby, Archie, Regina . . ."

"Great," Emma said, trying her best to force a smile. Socializing wasn't high on her list of skills, if it even counted as one of her skills at all. She brought her mug of hot chocolate to her lips. It might have been the best thing she ever tasted.


	3. Welcome to Storybrooke

**Chapter Three**

"Oh!" Mary Margaret said, surprised, upon seeing Emma already in the kitchen, in the morning.

"I'm sorry," Emma apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Mary Margaret waved it off. "No worries. Not scared. Just . . . I'm not used to seeing someone there," she admitted.

Emma nodded. She'd been a bit weirded out herself this morning, waking up in the guest bedroom upstairs, instead of in a cramped room with three other girls. She supposed that now she'd be able to sleep in without all the commotion in the house, but she didn't think she could. So here she was, seven A.M. on a Sunday, waiting for Mary Margaret to wake up. She'd found her clothes, folded neatly on top of the washing machine.

"I hope you like diner food," said Mary Margaret, collecting her jacket. "Granny's is the best."

"I'm sure I will," Emma said.

"There will be a lot of people there," Mary Margaret said. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, meeting all of them . . ."

"It's okay," Emma said quickly, even though the thought of having to lie to that many people unnerved her.

"I'll tell them you're my cousin who's visiting," Mary Margaret said, smiling kindly at her. "My sister's daughter."

"Don't they know you don't have a sister?" This seemed like a small enough town that everyone would know everything about each other.

"They can't know _everything_ about me," Mary Margaret said. "Don't worry. You ready to go?"

Emma nodded, and Mary Margaret led her out the door, downstairs and out of the apartment building, where they were greeted with crisp October air.

"You were supposed to meet that guy, weren't you?" Emma said, remembering suddenly. "I don't want to interrupt your plans."

"It's no trouble, really!" Mary Margaret assured her. "We can still have coffee. He'll meet you, too. Besides, if you're staying with me, you might be seeing a lot of him."

"Are you going to tell him the truth?" Emma asked hesitantly. "I wouldn't want you to have to lie to your boyfriend."

Mary Margaret looked conflicted. "I . . . I'm not sure, Emma."

"I didn't mean to cause a problem," Emma said quickly.

"No problem," said Mary Margaret. "If you're comfortable, I would like to tell him the truth."

Emma nodded. She wouldn't want to lie to someone she cared about.

"There's Granny's!" Mary Margaret said brightly, gesturing to the diner across the street. It looked like something Emma had seen on TV once; she hadn't realized towns like this actually existed.

A man with red hair and circular glasses, who held onto a huge dalmatian on a leash, was talking to a younger girl dressed in a cropped white button down and short red skirt. Her hair was impossibly long, and had a streak of red through it.

"Hey, Archie!" Mary Margaret called. "Ruby! So glad you found Pongo."

"Morning, Mary Margaret," the guy said. "Who's this?"

"This is my cousin, Emma," Mary Margaret said. "Emma, this is Archie and Ruby."

"Nice to meet you," Ruby said. "Though I can't imagine why you'd want to come visit _here."_

"Ruby," Mary Margaret said reproachfully. "Storybrooke is a great town."

"Sure," Ruby said a little bitterly, "If you like boredom and lame townspeople."

"Hey!" Archie and Mary Margaret both said indignantly.

"Not you two," Ruby assured them. "And I'm sure you aren't lame, either, Emma."

"Thanks," Emma said, finding herself smiling at the girl. She seemed nice, under all those layers of makeup.

"What's the special today?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Blueberry pancakes," Ruby said. "Pretty good, too."

"Great," Mary Margaret said. "We'll see you later."

They both waved, and Emma followed Mary Margaret into the diner.

"Her grandmother owns the place," Mary Margaret explained quietly. The bell above the door chimed loudly. "It's no secret that she's not thrilled to be here."

"Mary Margaret!" A much older woman, whom Emma assumed was Granny herself, called when they entered the diner. "I heard you've got family in town!"

_How did news travel that fast? _"Just me," Emma said, waving shyly. "Nice to meet you."

Granny hurried over, a stack of menus in one arm and a steaming pot of coffee in another. "You must be Emma," she said. "I'm Granny. Take a seat anywhere you'd like."

"Thank you," Emma said politely, and Mary Margaret led her to a booth by the window.

When they sat down and ordered drinks-coffee for Mary Margaret, hot chocolate for Emma-Emma glanced around the diner. There were a few people sitting at the counter; a group of gruff-looking, shorter guys in plaid. Two women in nuns' clothing sat across from one another at a table in the middle of the diner, and a young blonde woman and her boyfriend sat at another booth, trying to quiet their few-month-old baby.

"There's usually more people," Mary Margaret said. "Were there any diners like this where you lived?"

Emma shook her head. "Just a bunch of McDonald's. A Burger King. A Subway."

Mary Margaret wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion at her, almost like she didn't understand what Emma had just said. _Weird. _Maybe she was joking around, Emma figured, as Granny set her hot chocolate down in front of her. Maybe Mary Margaret didn't have much of a sense of humor.

Mary Margaret ordered eggs and toast for herself and her boyfriend, who was expected to show up soon, and Emma ordered pancakes. She hadn't had pancakes since she was six.

"David!" Mary Margaret said delightedly when her boyfriend entered the diner. He headed over to their table and bent down to kiss her quickly before sliding in beside her.

"Who's this?" He asked curiously, looking at Emma. He was tall, Emma thought. He was blond, though his hair was darker than hers. Oddly enough, Emma was struck with the thought that he didn't look too different from how she always imagined her biological father.

No, she told herself. It was ridiculous to liken this man to her actual father. She shouldn't start thinking like that.

"This is my cousin, Emma," Mary Margaret said. "Emma, this is David."

"Nice to meet you, Emma," David said, extending his hand. She shook it.

"Emma," said a voice above them suddenly, nearly making Emma jump from surprise. "What a nice name."

Emma looked up to see a man hovering above their table; he was shorter than David, with hair down to his shoulders. He walked with a cane and a slight limp, and he appeared to be fifty-something years old.

"Um, this is Mr. Gold, Emma," Mary Margaret said, clearly surprised to see him standing there. "He . . . he has a pawn shop in town."

"Is that all I am now, dearie?" He smirked, a gold tooth glinting in his mouth. "A man with a pawn shop in town?"

"No," Mary Margaret said quickly. "Just . . ."

"I'm Mary Margaret's cousin," Emma said. "It's . . . it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he said, though he didn't seem to mean it. "Well, I've got things to do. Just thought I'd stop by."

"Nice to see you, Gold," David said curtly.

With that, the odd man with the cane left their table, heading up to sit at the counter.

"He seems cheery," Emma grumbled, and David and Mary Margaret laughed.

"He's a little strange," David said, "But you'll get used to him. If . . . how long are you staying? A few days?"

Emma, panicked, looked to Mary Margaret.

"Actually," Mary Margaret said, "Emma's going to stay with me for awhile. Maybe a few months?"

"Wow," David said. "What brings you to Storybrooke?"

"Sick of my own town," Emma lied smoothly. "You know, needed a change. Mary Margaret was nice enough to take me in."

As David opened his mouth to say something else, probably praise his girlfriend's niceness as well, the bells above the door chimed loudly again. In walked a woman dressed in a crisp gray pantsuit. She wore her hair curled at her shoulders, and her face was set in an angry glare.

"Morning, Regina," Mary Margaret said.

The woman turned and flashed their table a huge, fake smile. "Morning," she said, and her gaze fell curiously and, somewhat alarmed, on Emma. "Who's this?"

"My cousin," Mary Margaret told her. "She'll be staying with me for awhile."

"Interesting," Regina said. "Well, we have to welcome you to the town properly, Emma! I'm Regina," she said. "I'd be honored if you'd all have dinner at my house this week."

"Uh . . ." Mary Margaret looked to David, who responded with an uncertain expression. "Sure! How does Tuesday sound?"

"Great," Regina said. "I'll see you then." She continued to regard Emma suspiciously for several moments before turning and heading for the counter, like Mr. Gold.


	4. Will

**Chapter Four**

Emma had been wandering around Storybrooke for an hour, and the rickety old playground at the edge of town, by the dock, seemed an appropriate place to rest. There was no one else there; everywhere else, there were townspeople. Lounging on benches, going on runs, walking their dogs. It didn't matter that it was October and not exactly warm outside. And everywhere Emma saw people, she was bombarded with questions. _Where did you come from? How are you related to Mary Margaret? How long are you staying? What do you think of the town?_

Here, she could breathe, she thought as she climbed up onto the top floor of the abandoned playground. Maybe that wasn't safe, but it couldn't be any less safe than her old school's playground; kids broke their arms practically every day falling off the faulty monkey bars.

She wished she had a phone to call her best-her only, really-friend on. But no foster parent had ever been willing to pay for a phone, and Emma had no way of earning money herself. So she never got to explain to Clara why she left, and why she wasn't back yet. Maybe she'd come to her house, only to have the Petersons inform her that Emma had run away, leaving her hurt that Emma never told her why.

Emma sighed. Mary Margaret had clearly been planning on spending time with David after breakfast, and Emma didn't want to intrude on their plans. So she'd told Mary Margaret she was going to go explore the town, and hoped she wouldn't think she was running off. But her bag was still at the apartment, and besides, she didn't want to leave.

"You're that new girl, aren't you?"

Emma, startled, glanced around her, but didn't see anyone.

"Relax," a boy's voice said, laughing a little. He emerged from under the playground. "It's just me."

"And who is _me_, exactly?" Emma asked.

"Me? I'm Will," he said. "And, to restate my previous question, aren't you the new girl?"

Emma nodded. "I'm Emma."

"Well, Emma, it's nice to meet you." The boy started running.

"Wait!" Emma called. "What's that?"

The boy stopped, swiveling back around. She could see him more clearly now; he was tall, even taller than her, which didn't usually happen. He was lanky, too, with shaggy dark hair and big brown eyes. He clutched a massive reddish-brown book in his hands, and she wanted to know what it was.

"This old thing?" He pointed to the book. "Oh, it's nothing."

"Then why did you hide it under an abandoned playground?"

"How did you-"

"Well, I'm guessing you didn't just come here _with _the book to read it under this thing," Emma said. "So why are you hiding it if it's not important?"

A small smile curled the boy's lips. "You've seen right through me, Emma."

Emma shrugged. "Just common sense."

"If you must know," the boy said, "It's a book of fairytales."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a little old for those?"

"What a sad, sad existence you must be living, thinking we're too old for fairytales," Will said. He'd begun walking a bit closer, and she didn't object.

"Why do you have a book of fairytales?" Emma tried. She couldn't explain exactly why, but this boy was frustrating her. Maybe because he couldn't seem to answer her directly.

"It's complicated," Will said, "And given your skeptical nature, I'm about one hundred percent sure you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Told me what?"

"A theory."

"A theory of?"

"A theory that everyone in this book-" he tapped the cover roughly, "-is a real, living person in this town."

Emma couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. "Okay, okay. I get it. You're trying to freak out the new girl. Well, it's not going to work. I've met much weirder people."

"I'm serious," Will said, looking a little hurt. "I knew you wouldn't believe me, and that's fine. But I'm right."

"Prove it," Emma challenged.

"Hey, you only just got here what, yesterday? You've got to get to know these people."

"I don't intend to," Emma said, though she wasn't sure if that was true or not.

"You're in the book too, you know," Will said.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Do _not _try to get me involved in this."

"Hey," Will said, "It's out of my hands now. You already are involved."

"Show me," Emma said.

Will came closer, right to the base of the playground. He held up the book to her, flipping through until he stopped at a seemingly random page.

"Okay," Emma said, wondering if she was missing something. "It's just a picture of Snow White and Prince Charming and some baby."

"The baby is you," Will said, and Emma didn't bother fighting the urge to roll her eyes. This was ridiculous. What was in the water in this town?

"Okay," Emma said, leaping down from the playground. "I have been sufficiently weirded out. I think you've achieved your goal."

"That wasn't my goal," Will said, to her back as she headed back to the path that would take her back into town. To Mary Margaret and David and Ruby and normal people. "My goal was to make you believe."

"Sure thing!" Emma called back. "Maybe we can get together once you've consulted that Archie guy."

"Oh, give it time!" Will said. "You'll come around."

_Sure_, Emma thought. _I'm going to start associating myself with delusional psychopaths._

When she reached town again, she started heading to Mary Margaret's apartment building, but was stopped by someone familiar. That police officer from the previous night, Graham. Emma froze, panicked.

"Ah, Emma!" He said brightly. "Good morning."

"Morning," she said meekly.

"What were you doing out at the playground?" He asked curiously. "Thing's far from safe. Been falling apart for years."

"Just . . ." Emma searched her mind for something unsuspicious. She'd already made enough of a fool of herself in front of this guy, already lied to him enough. "Just needed some quiet, you know."

"Yes, Storybrooke is known as the loudest town on the eastern seaboard," he said, cracking a smile. Emma found herself smiling too, nervously.

"Enjoying your time with Mary Margaret?" He asked.

Emma nodded. "She's my favorite cousin."

"Really?" Graham raised an eyebrow. "You two don't look alike at all."

"Well, you know. Cousins usually don't," Emma tried, feeling her heart to pound. Graham couldn't _know. _No one knew except Mary Margaret, and she wouldn't tell a cop. She wouldn't.

"Interesting," Graham said, "That Mary Margaret never mentioned she had a cousin visiting before this morning. She's usually quite conversational with everyone in town."

"She might have forgotten," Emma said, trying to brush it off. "It's really no big deal. Nothing exciting."

"Huh. Orphans don't usually flee to our town. When they do, it can be quite exciting," Graham said, and Emma suddenly felt paralyzed with fear. _How did he know?_

"I . . ." she didn't know what to say.

"I've arranged for your former foster parents to pick you up," Graham said. "They'll be here tomorrow. I'm sorry, Emma, but it's not safe for you to be running around alone out here."

Emma nodded, swallowed hard. Of course he wouldn't understand; he would assume she was just a stupid teenager, not that she was running away to save herself.

"Does Mary Margaret know?" She asked quietly.

"No," Graham said. "I'll see you tomorrow, Emma. Best of luck to you."

Emma couldn't bring herself to say anything else as he walked away. She was confused, and angry, _furious_, and scared. And she resolved that there was only one thing she could do: she had to get out of there.


	5. Escape

**Chapter Five**

Emma knocked on Mary Margaret's apartment door, and was relieved when there was no answer. She wouldn't have to explain why she was leaving; she could just go.

She retrieved the key from under the mat that Mary Margaret had told her was there. She unlocked the door and headed inside. She quickly collected her bag from upstairs and, figuring it would be rude to leave without so much as a small goodbye, so she rifled through the kitchen drawers until she found some printer paper and a pen, a purple one she probably used for grading her students' papers; she'd mentioned at breakfast that morning that she was a teacher.

She scribbled a quick note, struggling to find the right words to adequately express her gratefulness:

_Mary Margaret_,

_I'm sorry, but I have to leave. Graham knows, he called my old foster parents. I can't go bac_k. _I really appreciate everything you did for me. I'll miss you._

_-Emma_

But after she wrote it, she ended up crumpling it up and stuffing it in the trash can. She took out a new piece of paper, writing simply:

_Thank you_.

And she left.

She decided to walk around the back of the building, since by walking through town, she ran the risk of running into someone wondering why she was carrying her backpack or, even worse, Mary Margaret and David. She felt tears burning the backs of her eyes as she crept along the back of the brick building; she _knew _she shouldn't have gotten attached to those people. She _knew _she shouldn't have let Mary Margaret charm her with her tales of teaching fourth graders and she _knew _she shouldn't have started to like how David would stare at his girlfriend admiringly, like everything she said was completely fascinating, and how he'd listened to her whole story without interrupting once. She knew this, and she hadn't listened to herself, and now here she was, her chest tight with the longing she felt to return to the apartment like nothing had happened. But was that really worth the rest of the day with Mary Margaret and maybe David? Was it really worth getting more attached to them, only to be taken away in the morning?

No, Emma decided. It wasn't.

She headed into the forest, figuring she should wait until night fell to head out of town. There could be cars driving by, Graham could be doing another patrol . . . and less cars would see her on the road if they passed her. She didn't want to run the risk of being kidnapped or anything.

Plus, it was only about four hours until it got dark. She had plenty to do to try to distract herself from the people of Storybrooke-of Mary Margaret and David and Ruby and Archie and even that odd boy Will, who'd tried to convince her all of his fairytales were real.

She found a huge tree to rest under, well hidden from the road, though it was pretty close to the _Welcome to Storybrooke _sign. Emma unzipped her backpack and wrapped her blanket around herself; it was cold outside now, and her thin jacket didn't cut it. She opened up one of the books she'd brought: it was the fifth out of a series of six, and she was anxious to finish it. Now, she guessed, she had plenty of time.

Eventually, after she'd finished the fifth book and started the sixth, she dozed off, and when she woke up it was dark, and her stomach was growling. She dug a granola bar out of her backpack and ate it while she headed back to the road. She could barely see anything, but she was careful to step over fallen tree branches and roots. There had been a town about twenty minutes away from here, a much bigger one, that she could stay in, follow her original plan. Not get attached to strangers.

"Emma?"

When she first heard the voice ring out in the dark, she thought she was imagining it. She was sure it wasn't real. She continued on, towards the sign that she could see up ahead, wondering if she was hallucinating.

"Emma!" The voice called again. Now she knew it was real. Her heart pounded. The voice was vaguely familiar, but she didn't want to believe it. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her; maybe it was Graham. "Emma, are you out here?"

She hesitated. Could she trust him? She'd only just met him today. But he wouldn't come looking for her only to send her away again, would he?

"Emma?" The voice sounded defeated, like he'd already accepted she wasn't there, and even a little disappointed, if she wasn't imagining that.

"I'm . . . I'm here," Emma said, probably quieter than she should have.

A flashlight's beam swiveled her way, and she was momentarily brought back to the previous night, when Graham had found her.

"Emma!" David said, sounding relieved. "I'm so glad you haven't left yet."

"I . . ." Emma didn't know what to say. The flashlight beam was getting closer; she could now just make out David coming closer, too, and she was confused. Why did he care? She wasn't worth his time.

"Emma!" David said again, when he'd reached her, and shocked her by wrapping her in a huge hug. "We were so worried about you."

Emma struggled to think of a response. She couldn't.

"Come on," David said, pulling away, "Let's go back to town."

"But Graham-"

"Won't have you taken back," David said. "We've made some legal arrangements."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Mary Margaret's going to be your legal guardian for the time being," David said.

"For the time being?"

"For as long as she can," David said. "We won't make you leave Storybrooke until you're ready, Emma, and I don't think you're ready now."

Emma nodded, dazed. She couldn't believe these people had taken such an interest in her, that they cared so much. "Thank you," was all she could think to say. "I . . . I really appreciate it."

David grinned. "Let's go," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders. They started walking back to the road, towards the town. "I think Mary Margaret's making dinner tonight. You like pasta?"

"Who doesn't?"

"You don't have to do this," Emma felt the need to remind him. "I can manage by myself. I've been doing it long enough. I'm not your responsibility."

"Well, we don't abandon anyone here," he said.

Emma didn't know how to respond to that.

"So," he said, "You meet anyone else this afternoon?"

She nodded. "I met this boy . . . he had a book. He thinks everyone in town is some fairytale character."

David chuckled. "Ah, Will."

"You know him?"

"Oh, yes," David said, "he thinks I'm Prince Charming."

Emma nearly froze; Will thought she was Snow White's daughter. And Snow White was married to Prince Charming.

"Does he think you're anyone?" David asked.

"No," Emma said firmly. "No, definitely not."


	6. The Book

**Chapter Six**

Emma was heading downstairs for some water when she froze.

It was almost twelve in the morning, and she could vaguely hear Mary Margaret and David in the kitchen, talking quietly. Probably about her. She felt a pang of gratefulness for them, again; for David, who'd come to find her in the woods, and Mary Margaret, who'd welcomed her back to her apartment with a big hug and the condition that she never run away from her again.

They'd discussed their living situation, and Emma agreed starting school would be necessary. She would get her uniform in the morning. She never mentioned, though, that Will thought they were her real parents. She couldn't let herself believe that, even as some kind of crazy story. If she was forced to leave them, she couldn't do that to herself, grow more attached than she already was.

Besides, Will was crazy. That much was obvious.

She had just turned the corner in the upstairs hallway for the steps leading to the kitchen when there were two sharp, impatient knocks on the door. Emma ducked back around the corner, but lingered there. She knew eavesdropping was wrong, but she was curious. Who could possibly be stopping by at twelve in the morning?

There were footsteps, and the metallic squeal of the door opening. "Regina?" May Margaret said, surprised.

_Regina. _The mayor. Emma remembered her; she hadn't exactly given off the best of personalities. She'd invited them over for dinner, yes, but Emma saw that as more calculating than friendly. Get information about the new person in town. Have the upper hand. She knew that type well.

"Sorry to bother you," Regina said, not sounding sorry at all. Her heels clicked along the wooden floor as she entered the apartment, probably uninvited. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your valuable time with your _cousin_."

"What do you want, Regina?" David asked, sounding tired of her. Maybe she bothered them often. As the mayor, she probably had the right to do whatever she wanted.

"I want her gone," Regina snapped. "I know what you're doing here, and it's not right."

"Regina," Mary Margaret said slowly, like she was talking to a child, "Nothing we're doing is wrong. It would be _wrong _of you to force Emma into a house like the one she left, with no one who truly cares about her."

"And you do?" Regina seemed on the verge of laughter. "You've known her for a day, Mary Margaret. And you, David? Are you really going to let your girlfriend rope you into this?"

"Hey," David said defensively. "I'm not doing anything I don't want to be doing right now. Us taking in Emma is none of your business."

"Oh, but it is," Regina said. "I'm in charge, not you. I decide the rules in this town, not you. And I will not have two people of my town partaking in criminal activity-"

"Too late," Mary Margaret said, and Emma imagined her smiling, satisfied.

"You and Graham may have worked out a deal right now," Regina said bitterly, "But it won't last long. Give me a day or two, I'll sort this out."

Emma's stomach fell. Regina clearly had all the power. If she wanted Emma gone, she would be.

"I know you won't have a problem getting to Graham," Mary Margaret said. "I know how close you two are."

"If you're suggesting that mine and Graham's relationship is anything other than platonic, Mary Margaret-"

"All I'm saying, is that you have secrets too. Secrets I'm sure you don't want everyone knowing."

"You have no proof."

"Who are they going to believe? They like me. You? Not so much."

"Well, being _liked _isn't my goal," Regina snapped. "I'm trying to make Storybrooke the best that it can be. Which it will _not _be, if I knowingly let crimes like this occur."

"Go ahead," David said. "Try to 'sort it out', Regina. Let us know when you come up with a reason why an orphaned girl shouldn't have a good home."

Regina said nothing in response; she simply whirled back to the door and marched out, slamming it behind her.

"You know she was the one who made Graham research Emma," Mary Margaret said quietly.

"I know," David said, a little sadly. "I'll never understand why she's out to get everyone."

"She's just not happy," Mary Margaret said. "What her and Graham have . . . it's not love. Maybe if she had someone she loved, she wouldn't be so bitter about everything."

"Maybe she should adopt," David suggested.

Mary Margaret snorted. "Regina? A mother? _Ruby _would be a better mother than Regina."

David laughed. Emma found herself smiling.

"You know who _would _be a great mother," David said.

"Who?"

"You."

"I . . ." Mary Margaret paused. "I feel like one, you know. With all my students."

"I think you'll be exactly what Emma needs," David said.

"So will you," Mary Margaret countered.

David seemed hesitant. "I'm not good with kids, you know that."

Mary Margaret laughed. "She's not a kid, David. She's sixteen."

"Still . . ."

"Because you don't work with kids, you work with animals."

"Is there much difference?"

"You'll learn," she promised. "And so will I. As long as we manage to keep Regina out of it."

David agreed, and Mary Margaret mentioned she was tired, and he agreed to go upstairs, so Emma bolted back to her room and leaped under her covers, pretending to sleep, though her heart was racing.

_As long as we keep Regina out of_ this.

Despite the fact that she knew Will was crazy, and his ideas even crazier, her story was beginning to seem more and more like, well, a story. A fairytale. A tragic past, a new beginning, a malicious villain. All she needed was a talking animal best friend.

She was just drifting off when there was a single rap on her window. She jolted upright, wondering if she'd imagined it. But hadn't it startled her awake?

Another knock.

Was it a bird? A little nervously, she peered out the window. And nearly screamed.

"Can I come in?" Will mouthed, pointing exaggeratedly to the window lock. He was perched on the railing of the fire escape, clutching his book. He looked like Peter Pan.

Emma, too curious not to oblige, popped open the window. Her door was closed, and Mary Margaret and David were probably asleep by now, but she was still worried they might catch him in here. How would she explain this?

"What are you _doing_?" She whispered as he agilely swung himself through her window and onto the floor.

"Not much of a greeting, is it?" He said, feigning disappointment.

"What do you want?" Emma snapped. She didn't want to be rude, but could whatever he had to say really not wait until tomorrow morning? She'd probably see him at school.

"Information," he said, glancing around the room and settling into the stiff white desk chair. The only light was a streetlight right outside and a dim silvery stripe on the floor, from the full moon, but Emma could still see his face. He wasn't ugly, she thought. Even cute. Okay, attractive. But he was certifiably insane, a stalker! Of course she would fall for someone like that.

Not that she was falling for Will. Not at all. If anything, she was creeped out by Will.

"What do you remember about your childhood?" He asked. "Where did you come from?"

"Uh . . ." Emma scanned her brain. She figured it was safe to tell him-her secret was pretty much out now, so what could it hurt? "I was left on the side of the road, by my parents. There was another boy with me, a young one, but I think he was just on a walk or something. He brought me to some restaurant nearby, and some people there turned me into the police. I've lived in foster homes since the day I was born. Adoption interviews never went well, the few that I had."

"That's all you remember?"

Emma nodded. "My life isn't interesting, Will. If you're looking for a good story, or inspiration, or whatever, you've come to the wrong place."

"I'm fact-checking," he declared.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm confirming that your story matches the story in the book." He flipped it open a few pages. "And, what do you know, it does!"

"Shh," Emma warned. "I can't wake them up."

"I wouldn't worry about them," Will said, smirking. "I doubt they're sleeping."

"Ugh, gross." Emma wanted to slam him over the head with a pillow, or maybe a large rock, but resisted.

"I know you still don't believe me," he said. "But this will change your mind."

He handed her the book.

"Why are you giving this to me? I already told you I know this is some kind of weird town-initiation prank."

"Just read it," Will said. "Read it, and then tell me I'm lying."

"Will-" Emma started, but he was already climbing gracefully back out the window.

"I expect a full report tomorrow at school," he said, before ducking out and disappearing again.

Emma, perplexed, got up and shut the window. She sat back down on the bed and rummaged through the beside table and desk drawers until she found a flashlight. The light was pretty dim, and it was covered in dust, but it would work. She supposed she could at least skim the book for a while; after that odd exchange, she wasn't so tired anymore. She flipped open to the first page and began to read.


	7. Trouble

**Chapter Seven**

"I think you'll like the high school," Mary Margaret said. They were heading there, from a school supplies store that Mary Margaret had gotten to open early. She knew the owner. "I don't visit often, of course, but it's a good school."

"Has to be better than my old one." Emma smoothed her uniform, that wasn't too ugly-white collared shirt, black blazer, plaid skirt. Someone had dropped it off that morning, one of Mary Margaret's teacher friends, and it fit perfectly.

"What was that like?" Mary Margaret asked curiously.

"Well, it was in the city," Emma explained. "You know, public school. It didn't have any money, so pretty much everything was broken. You know, desks, chairs, all that stuff. And there were never enough books for everyone, we all had to share. I couldn't stand it there. Honestly . . . I didn't go that much."

"You skipped school?" Mary Margaret seemed horrified.

"I spent most of my time at the library," Emma said. "I really only went home to sleep and, sometimes, to eat."

"Ah," said Mary Margaret, smiling, "So you like to read?"

Emma nodded. "I love it."

Which was why she'd spent four hours last night reading Will's book before she finally decided she needed at least a few hours of sleep for her first day of school. Luckily the dark circles under her eyes weren't too noticeable.

She still believed he was crazy; that hadn't changed. But the stories were so interesting; not at all like the fairytales she'd grown up with. Since when had Snow White been so badass? Since when was Peter Pan evil, was magic so costly? If anything, reading those only led her to believe Will was stranger. Not only was he obsessed with fairytales, but they were _different _fairytales. Dark ones.

"Well, here we are," Mary Margaret said, looking up at the massive brick building before them. A sea of little kids, all in uniforms, was walking into it, some accompanied by parents, some not. "I go in here," she said, "But the high school's just behind this building."

Emma nodded. "Thanks for all the school stuff."

"No problem," Mary Margaret smiled brightly. "I'll meet you back home, okay? I'll be a little later, since I've got some grading to do."

"See you then," Emma said, and waved before turning and heading for her new school.

The high school was, as Mary Margaret said, just up a path behind the elementary school. Even though it was connected to the middle school, it was still a smaller building; Emma guessed there just weren't that many teenagers in Storybrooke. She hadn't seen many walking around town the past couple days.

She hoped they took well to new kids. She got the feeling they didn't get them too often, so maybe they wouldn't know how to act. The thought made her skin prickle with nerves.

At least she did know one person, however strange he might be.

She followed a few other kids into the school, glancing down at her schedule: first period American History, Room 104, Mr. Jones. She could do that.

Except, she couldn't find Room 104. It wasn't between Rooms 105 and 103.

"Hey, new kid!"

She whirled around. _Will._

She scowled at him. A few other kids in the hallway turned to stare, and she felt her face go red.

"I take it you read the book, judging by the dark circles under your eyes?" He said.

"I have to get to class," Emma said, pushing past him.

"Why don't you let me show you where class is?" Will started walking beside her. Ugh, he was irritating. "Because you have approximately thirty seconds before you're late. And no one wants to be late on their first day."

"Fine," Emma grumbled.

"Lucky for you, I have History first too." She followed him as he exited the current hallway and turned left into the next hallway. "And therefore I know that Room 104 was placed in the English wing, though no one knows exactly why. After you."

He stepped aside, and Emma cautiously entered the classroom. It was much smaller than those at her old school; there were also only about eight or nine kids there. Well, this was an adjustment.

"Ah, new student!" Mr. Jones, a tall, dark-haired guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties said. He had an accent she couldn't place, and she hated to think this, but he was very, undeniably attractive. "Very nearly late. And . . . Will." He said Will's name dismayed, as if he'd been hoping the boy wouldn't show up for class.

"Sorry," Emma apologized quickly. "I'm Emma. Emma Swan."

"Take a seat anywhere, Miss Swan," he said. "Not that there are many open seats."

Emma slid into one of two open spots, both in the front row, towards the opposite wall. Annoying her, Will sat next to her.

"Where are you from?" A girl in the class asked. Emma turned, assuming the question was directed at her.

"Boston," she answered.

"Why'd you move here?" Another girl piped up.

"Now, now," Mr. Jones said, "Let's not interrogate the new student."

"Are you Will's girlfriend?" One guy snickered. "You believe in fairytales, too?"

"Hey," Emma said, "Don't make fun of him."

"They're not making fun of me-"

"Enough," Mr. Jones said, and the final bell rang. "Now, if you're all done stalling, why don't we start?"

Everyone went silent. All the girls were clearly enamored by their teacher; they were practically drooling at him.

"Open to page 321 in your books," Mr. Jones said, sliding one onto Emma's desk. "Today we're going to learn about pirates."

"Will knows all about pirates," a girl said mockingly. "You know, Neverland pirates."

"Did you know he thinks you're Captain Hook?" A guy said.

"Hey, Will! Who am I? Sleeping Beauty?"

"Shut _up!" _Emma said, surprising even herself at how strong she sounded. But she was angry, and even though she didn't particularly like Will, she couldn't just let him be mercilessly teased by his classmates. "Leave him alone!"

"Emma-" Will tried to protest.

"Or what?" The girl in the back row sneered at Emma. "What, you'll hit me?"

Emma stood from her desk and took a few steps closer to the girl's desk. The girl sank into her seat, obviously frightened. "Maybe," Emma snapped, raising her first. She'd punched people before. This girl obviously had it coming. "Try me."

"_Enough_," Mr. Jones said, and lowered Emma's fist to her side. "Miss Swan, Will is going to take you to the principal's office; she can deal with you. Miss Simmons, I don't want any more of your antagonizing in my classroom."

"She was going to punch me!"

"Go," Mr. Jones said sternly, clearly not in the mood to deal with them. Will scrambled over to Emma and took her by the arm, dragging her out of the classroom. On her way out, Emma stuck her tongue out at that annoying girl; she knew it was a juvenile, insignificant gesture, but if she couldn't punch her, she guessed that was the best she could do.

Not that she _really _would have punched her. But she would have come close, just to scare her. She deserved it.

"What do you think you're doing?" Will snapped at her as he led her back down the hallway she'd entered the school through. "You're not my bodyguard, Emma. I can take care of myself."

"They were making fun of you! I couldn't just let it happen."

"Well, figure out a way to," he said. "Because this isn't new, and if anything, you've probably made it worse."

"Will, I . . ."

"No," he said, stopping. They'd reached the main office. "I'll stop by your place later to get my book back."

Emma paused. She wanted to say something, she _needed _to say something. He looked so upset.

"Who are you?" She decided to ask.

"What do you mean?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You know," she said, "In the book. Who are you?"

A sheepish grin crossed his face. "I can't say."

"Why the sudden mysteriousness?"

"I . . ." He hesitated. "I don't think you'd like who I am."

"Will, come on."

"Really. It's probably better that you don't know."

"Okay," Emma said. She wanted to press further, but she'd caused him enough distress today. "I'll see you later."

He nodded, and left her at the door to the principal's office.

Emma felt a pang of guilt. Mary Margaret-David, too-would be so disappointed. Trouble on the first day of school. Not exactly what they signed up for.

She met with the principal, and she scolded her, told her that at _this school _they did not tolerate violence or animosity between students. _This school _may be different than her old one, but _this school _was special. All that stuff. Emma had to resist the urge to roll her eyes for fifteen minutes straight. The principal decided perhaps Emma should return home for the day, too much too soon and all that. Emma was more than happy to leave, though she worried what Mary Margaret might say upon returning home.

"Wait in one of those chairs," the principal ordered, when Emma moved to leave the office area.

"Wait for what?" Emma asked, confused. "Can't I go home?"

"Someone's coming to pick you up."

"Who?"

"David Nolan."

"But how-"

"He was listed under your emergency contacts. Mrs. Blanchard is teaching right now, and he's not scheduled at the animal shelter until later today. He's coming to pick you up."

_Great_, Emma thought bitterly, _now I have to explain this twice. Now I have to deal with twice the disappointment. _She'd been hoping she could just confront them both later.

When David arrived, the principal allowed her to go. They were silent except for brief hello's as they headed out of the building. David didn't speak until they were on the sidewalk leading into town.

"I'm very proud of you, Emma," he said.

Emma was surprised. "_What?"_

"You stood up for your friend," David said. He really was grinning proudly; that was something Emma hadn't seen before. Directed at her, at least. "So you got in trouble. I'd rather you get in trouble for doing the right thing than not do the right thing at all."

"Interesting," Emma mused. "Well, thanks for picking me up. Maybe homeschooling is my best option."

David laughed. "You'll figure it out. So, what were you doing up so late last night?"

Emma nearly froze. "What do you mean?"

"I saw the light under your door," he said. "Just curious."

"I was reading," Emma admitted.

"Anything good?"

"Uh . . . you could say that."

"Was it that book of Will's?"

"How did you know?"

"Mary Margaret did the same thing, a few months ago," he said. "Will was trying to convince her that she was Snow White. It was when we'd been dating awhile, and he used the whole Snow White-Prince Charming thing to try to persuade her. Actually, both of us."

"You never read the book?"

"I read a bit," David said. "But they're just fairytales. You know that. Mary Margaret, though, she's so nice, she couldn't say no to him. So she read the whole thing, and humored him a little. But she doesn't believe in that stuff. No one does."

"What do Will's parents think?"

David paused. "He . . . Will doesn't have parents."

_Will is an orphan too?_

"He lives alone," David said. "His parents left him a nice house, and money, and he's okay. He's seventeen. He's old enough. We all watch him, of course, check up on him and all that. Maybe if he had his parents, they could get him to talk to Archie and sort all this fairytale nonsense out."

"Maybe," Emma said quietly.

"Besides, Will isn't really alone. He's a good guy. He plays with all the younger neighborhood boys, makes up all these games. He's like their leader."

"Like Peter Pan and the Lost Boys," Emma said.

David chuckled. "I bet that's who he sees himself as, yes."

"Maybe I'm Wendy," Emma joked. "Or Tinkerbell."

"Then I'm probably Nana," David said, making Emma laugh.

But something nagged at her; in the book, Peter Pan was evil. Will had said he didn't want Emma to know who he was, that she might not like it. That would make sense. Wow, she thought. He's taking this thing seriously.

But she wouldn't let herself do the same.


	8. Dinner Party

**Chapter Eight**

"You look beautiful," Mary Margaret said. Emma was still doubtful.

She didn't feel pretty, she felt awkward. She hadn't worn clothes this nice since she was a kid, in a foster family that insisted she go to church twice a week. Not that she was religious. Mary Margaret had taken her shopping for new clothes, since she barely had any, and for dinner at Regina's house she'd gotten a nice black skirt and sweater. She'd even let Mary Margaret talk her into getting earrings.

"Here," Mary Margaret said, handing her another piece of jewelry.

Emma took it. It was a delicate silver chain with a silver circle charm hanging on it. "I don't know," she said uncertainly. "I don't want to lose it."

"You won't," Mary Margaret said firmly, and Emma handed her the necklace so she could fasten it at the back of her neck. She knew Emma didn't like responsibility. "Anyways, don't think of it as mine. I want you to have it."

Emma's eyes widened. "This is too much, Mary Margaret, I can't-"

"It's yours," she said. "I want you to have something of your own."

Emma fingered the diamond-encrusted circle at her neck. "Thank you," she said. "It really is beautiful."

"Now," said Mary Margaret, brushing off her own outfit, "Let's go get this over with, shall we?"

"Why don't we cancel?" Emma suggested. "I can't imagine Regina actually wants to see us."

Mary Margaret shook her head. "She'd just reschedule for tomorrow. Regina is . . . difficult. Very difficult."

"Do you know her well?" Emma still couldn't shake that conversation she'd overheard. She didn't exactly have the best impression of the town mayor.

"Not really," Mary Margaret said. "Sometimes I meet with her to discuss matters concerning the school. She doesn't usually show up to our parties."

"She thinks she's above it all, doesn't she? That she's better?"

Mary Margaret smiled, a little sadly. "I think she's just lonely, you know? She really doesn't have anyone."

"Why don't we bring her a dog instead of flowers?" Emma grumbled.

"Come on," Mary Margaret grinned, and she and Emma headed downstairs, where David was waiting.

"Well, you two look nice," he said, leaning down to kiss Mary Margaret.

"We can't be late," she said, consulting her watch. "Regina will hold that against me for the rest of my life."

"Why is she mayor if no one likes her?" Emma wondered, as they all left the apartment.

"We're not sure, actually," Mary Margaret said. "I don't even remember the election, to be honest. Maybe she wasn't always this way."

That was odd. It couldn't have happened that long ago; neither Regina nor Mary Margaret was that old.

Actually, no one in town seemed to ever discuss anything that had happened before the last year. Almost like they didn't remember it at all. Which would, oddly, fit in with Will's theory that everyone was under the curse she'd read about in the book. The curse that _she _was supposed to destroy.

Emma shook her head. No. She couldn't start believing in anything Will said. He was crazy! That was all.

It was only a few blocks' walk to Regina's. She undoubtedly lived in the biggest house in town, which Emma guessed made sense, with her being the mayor and all. It was certainly the biggest house Emma had ever seen.

She answered the door dressed in a fitted gray pantsuit, her hair curled stiffly to perfection. "Well, hello," she said, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Almost late."

"Well, we're here now." Mary Margaret, forcing a smile as well, handed Regina the bouquet of flowers they'd gotten for her. "Thanks for inviting us, Regina."

"It's no trouble, really," Regina said, her gaze resting on Emma. "Please come in."

They did, and Regina immediately led them to the dining room. They all took a seat around the big round table that was definitely meant for more than four people. Maybe nine or ten.

"Will anyone else be joining us this evening?" Mary Margaret asked, as if reading Emma's thoughts.

"Oh, no," Regina said. "It's all about you three tonight, don't worry."

"Ah." Mary Margaret looked less than pleased.

"Well, eat, eat!" Regina insisted. "I've been trying to improve my cooking lately."

Emma glanced down at her plate. The food looked good; it was some kind of chicken and mashed potatoes and a bunch of vegetables, and she picked up her fork and began eating. She did have the briefest thought, however, that Regina probably poisoned the food. She wanted to get rid of Emma, and this was the quickest way to do it.

"So, Emma," Regina said, "How are you adjusting to Storybrooke?"

"I'm doing fine," Emma said. "Thank you."

"I heard there was some conflict at school yesterday. What was that all about?"

"It was nothing," Emma tried to brush it off. "Just a mistake."

"Interesting," Regina said, narrowing her eyes at Emma, "That you would call physically injuring another student a _mistake."_

"I didn't hit her!" Emma didn't mean to yell, but Regina obviously knew this, and was just trying to get her angry. To prove that she was too much to handle, that she didn't belong here in this perfect little town with all its perfect little citizens.

"Emma was trying to defend her friend," Mary Margaret said. "We've discussed it. It won't happen again-"

"How do I know that?" Regina glared at Emma. "It would be much easier to turn you over to the authorities, Emma. I'm doing you a favor by letting you stay here."

Emma bit her tongue, hard, so she wouldn't say something she'd regret. She wanted to tell Regina she didn't need any favors from her, that she didn't want to be in any town Regina was in charge of, but Regina had the power to send her back into the foster system. Emma couldn't risk that.

"And I appreciate it," she finally said, cautiously. "Thank you."

"I've been giving this some thought," Regina said, "And I've decided that letting you stay with Mary Margaret was an error of judgement."

"Hold on," Mary Margaret said, "It's only been a few days! Emma is fine. You can't send her out of town."

"I'm not sending her out of town." Regina smiled, in a way that suggested she was plotting something evil. She probably was.

"Then what do you mean-"

"Emma is going to stay with me," she said.

Emma's stomach dropped.

"No," David said. "Regina, that's not going to happen-"

"It's what's best for her," Regina said coolly. "And besides, you don't have legal custody of her."

"Neither do you."

"If you do not comply, I will turn Emma in. She'll be gone by tomorrow morning. Is that what you want?" She directed this not at Mary Margaret and David, but at Emma, who was speechless. Was this some kind of cruel joke?

If she hadn't been so shocked, she would have told Regina to stop speaking about her like she wasn't there.

"You may drop her things off tomorrow," Regina said. "She'll stay with me tonight."

Mary Margaret and David both looked to Emma, probably expecting her to protest. But what could she do?

"We'll figure this out, Emma," Mary Margaret promised, and glared at Regina. "You won't have to stay here for long."

Emma hoped so.


	9. Regina

**Chapter Nine**

"Need anything?"

Emma didn't answer Regina. She was sitting stiffly on her new bed, reading the book she'd started on Sunday, in the woods.

"I know you're unhappy," Regina said, lingering in the doorway, "But you're going to have to talk to me sometime."

Emma still didn't answer, though she wanted to scream. This was all just so _unfair. _She'd finally started to be happy, she'd thought she'd finally gotten the life she wanted, and then Regina happened.

"You'll be happy here," Regina said, "I promise."

"I doubt it."

"Anything you want, it's yours," Regina said. "Why don't we go shopping tomorrow? You can get some things for your new room?"

"I'm good."

Regina sighed, clearly frustrated. But what had she expected? Did she really think Emma was going to take this well?

"I'm trying to do the right thing here," Regina said.

"No, you're not." Emma raised her book so it covered her face, so she didn't have to see Regina. "You just want to be in control. Well, you got what you wanted. Congratulations."

"You should be _thanking _me," Regina said. "Mary Margaret isn't a good person, Emma."

"She seems a hell of a lot better than you."

"Do you know how she and David got together?" Regina asked. Emma didn't answer. "She broke up a _marriage_, Emma. David was married to a perfectly nice woman named Kathryn. And Mary Margaret just couldn't keep her hands off him-"

"Stop it!" Emma said. She didn't want to hear it, and since Mary Margaret and David had defended her so many times, she felt the need to do the same. She was a little bit curious at what Regina had said-she couldn't help it-but she didn't want to listen to her badmouth Mary Margaret, who was one of the nicest people she'd ever met, if not _the _nicest.

"Fine," Regina said curtly. "I'll leave you alone. I have a meeting, anyway. I should be back in an hour or two."

Emma didn't respond. Regina sighed once more, and shut the door on her way out.

Emma wanted to cry, which she didn't do often. But this was almost worse than her situation last week. Being alone would be better than being with Regina. Will would certainly agree; he thought she was the evil queen. His theories were becoming disturbingly accurate.

She sank back into her book, though, trying to distract herself. She wondered briefly if Mary Margaret and David were relieved now; they no longer had the burden of some strange sixteen-year-old girl they'd never met before. They could continue their relationship normally, no more interruptions. The thought made her stomach hurt.

A few loud knocks on the door about fifteen minutes after Regina had left startled Emma; cautiously, she crept to the stairs and peered over the balcony, through the glass panels beside the front door. She couldn't believe it. It was Will.

What was he doing here, and how could he possibly know that she'd been taken hostage here? She ran downstairs to get the door; he'd already stopped by the apartment earlier that afternoon to retrieve his book, so what more could he want from her?

"Hi," she said, a little breathless from the running. Regina had a lot of stairs.

"No time for that," he said, pushing past her. For the first time since she'd met him, he wasn't clutching that fairytale book. "When will Regina be back?"

"An hour or so. Why?" Emma shut the door behind him. Will started into the house, clearly searching for something.

"Um, hello," Emma said, "I'd consider this breaking and entering."

"You let me in."

"You can't rob Regina! Look, I'm not a fan of her either, but she is the mayor, and she can get you in trouble-"

"I'm not scared of Regina."

"How did you know I was here?"

He stopped in the kitchen, started rummaging messily through drawers. _Great. _Now Regina was going to think Emma was snooping around, when really she couldn't care less what Regina kept in her house.

"I heard Mary Margaret and David talking about it at Granny's. Where is Regina's office?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Emma snapped. "I've been here for two hours."

"That way," Will decided, and set off in the opposite direction of the kitchen. Emma followed him to a set of glass double doors that opened up into what appeared to be, indeed, Regina's office.

"What are you looking for?" Emma asked, as Will opened up one of Regina's desk drawers and started rifling through it.

"Proof," he said. "This situation has worsened. I thought . . . I thought if you were staying with Mary Margaret and David, you'd start believing. The curse would start to be broken . . ."

"Will . . ."

"Don't tell me you don't believe me. I know you don't. Which is why I have to find what I'm looking for."

Emma waited impatiently for another minute until Will said, "Aha!" and extracted a fancy jewelry box from the bottom drawer. At least, it looked like a jewelry box.

"Jewelry isn't going to convince me," Emma pointed out.

"Oh, there isn't jewelry in here." Will practically grimaced. What could be so bad in the box?

"Dammit," he muttered. "There's no key."

Emma opened her mouth to ask another question, when she stopped. The front door swung open.

"Emma?" Regina called. "Emma, are you awake?"

Will's and Emma's eyes both widened with horror.

"Put it away," Emma hissed. "Leave through the window, hide in the closet, I don't care. I'll stall her."

She didn't stay to see Will's response; she left the office to find Regina, heart pounding, wondering what the hell was in that box. And, most importantly, why it would supposedly make her believe in the curse.


	10. The Heart

**Chapter Ten**

"Emma, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Emma hung up her coat on the hook at the edge of the booth in Granny's diner, and slid into a seat across from Mary Margaret.

"She thinks I went into school early to work on a Biology project. And she won't be here, because she's meeting with Graham about . . . something. Supposedly." Emma wasn't an idiot. It had only been two weeks, and it was clear that Regina and Graham had some kind of romantic relationship, though Emma had no idea how _that _dynamic worked.

"Well, in that case," Mary Margaret smiled, "It's nice to see you."

"Likewise," Emma grinned. She'd only managed to meet up with her twice since Regina had forced her to move into her house.

"So, how's life in the mayor's house?" Mary Margaret sipped her coffee.

"Pretty much exactly what you'd expect," Emma said. "Good food, I guess. She gets all the movie channels. And she's not there too much. But when she is, I feel like she's watching me. It's creepy."

"What do you mean _watching _you?"

"I mean . . ." Emma hesitated. She didn't know exactly how to phrase this. "I mean she tends to keep a very close eye on me whenever she's around, like she's waiting for something to happen. Like I'm a bomb about to explode, or something."

"Huh," Mary Margaret said. "That's strange."

Emma shrugged. "I miss you and David."

Mary Margaret smiled, a little sadly. "We miss you too, Emma, trust me. We obviously never expected this to happen, but I'm glad it did. I only wish Regina wouldn't have gotten involved in something that was never her business."

"Oh, I know."

"How's school? Are you making any friends?"

"Uh . . . you could say that."

Mary Margaret laughed. "People in Storybrooke aren't used to new kids. That's probably why they're resisting you. I'm sure once they get to know you better, they'll love you."

"That's okay," Emma said, "I don't need friends."

"What about Will? Isn't he your friend?"

Ah, Will. He kept texting her on the phone Regina had given her, as a kind of bribery, Emma was sure. Not that it made her think any more highly of her new adoptive "mother", as Regina requested she call her. Emma had resisted the urge to laugh at that. But she still hadn't found the key that would unlock that box, and the supposed proof to convince her of Will's theory.

"I don't know," Emma admitted. "He . . . he keeps trying to get me to believe in that whole curse thing, but I can't. It's not real."

"I know," Mary Margaret said. "He's a nice boy, though. I'm glad you're friendly with him. He's alienated most kids in town talking about that curse."

"You mean you don't believe it either, Snow White?" Emma laughed.

Mary Margaret grinned. "Hey, you never mentioned if he thought you were anyone. Maybe that's why he's pushing it on you."

Emma shook her head. She couldn't say, _he thinks I'm yours and David's daughter. _That would just be weird. "I'm no one," she said firmly.

They ate pancakes and drank hot chocolate, and weren't in a rush because it was Sunday. Mary Margaret had a teachers' meeting later that day, though, so they parted ways promising to meet each other next week. Emma walked back to the mayor's house, her chest heavy. She should be going back with Mary Margaret, to her apartment, not to Regina's place.

Her phone buzzed, and since it was Will, Emma answered. "Hello?"

"Did you find it yet?"

She sighed. "No, Will, I have not found the key yet. Stop asking me."

"It's important-"

"I know you _say _it's important, but why can't you tell me at least what you think is in the box?"

"You have to see for yourself."

"Fine," she said, "I will continue to look for the key, and should I find it, you will be the first to know. However, the more you call and text me asking whether or not I've found it yet, the less likely I am to want to look for it."

"Just hurry," Will said. "This curse has to be broken."

Emma hung up. Why was he so annoying?

"Looking for a key, dearie?"

Emma whirled around. Surprising her, Mr. Gold sat on a bench a little bit behind her on the sidewalk. She hadn't even noticed him as she'd been walking by.

"Eavesdropping isn't polite, you know," she said, trying to stay calm. Mr. Gold had always creeped her out, and she didn't want to talk to him.

"I know what you're talking about," he said, standing up and taking a couple limping steps towards her. "The box, in Regina's office? The one that will make you believe?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Emma's heart pounded. This guy was crazier than Will.

"I've heard you two talking," he said. "I like to stay updated on this town's affairs."

"I don't want your help-"

"But you need it," he said, "Because I have the key, dearie."

Emma froze. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because, unlike you, I _believe _your friend. I _know _this curse is real, and I _know _that you're the only one who can break it. When Regina wiped out everyone else's memories, she didn't erase mine. Because I made the curse myself. Stop kidding yourself, Emma. You know you're starting to believe Will."

Emma hesitated. So what if she was? She needed something to believe in other than this crappy life she currently had, and if that was that everyone in town was fairytale characters, so be it. Deep down, she knew it wasn't real, but if she wanted to believe it the slightest bit, she could. "Where is the key?"

"Right here." Mr. Gold slipped it from his coat pocket. It was delicate and silver, seemingly exactly what she'd been looking for. "Take this, and use it. Break the curse."

Emma took the key, carefully sliding it into her own pocket. "Thank you," she said. "Will will be very pleased."

"Don't tell your friend yet," Mr. Gold said. "See it for yourself."

Before Emma could say anything else, ask him any questions, he turned and left her there on the sidewalk.

Emma practically ran to Regina's house. She called her name, but she didn't answer, and she guessed she was at another meeting. She probably had enough time to see what was in the box. She hoped.

Her heart pounded with anxiety as she entered Regina's office and found the box in the drawer Will had shown her almost two weeks ago. Carefully, she inserted the key in the lock and twisted. The top of the jewelry box popped open. Emma took a deep breath, and glanced inside.

She screamed.

It was a human heart.


	11. Charming

**Chapter Eleven**

"What the _hell?!"_

"Emma, calm down-"

"No." Emma's heart was racing, and not because she'd run all the way to the abandoned playground by the dock to meet Will. "Why would you think that was funny? Where do you even _get _a heart?"

"It's not a joke!" Will said earnestly. He looked genuinely hurt, but Emma didn't care. He was a better actor than she'd thought.

She didn't know what she'd expected upon opening the box. But it certainly wasn't _that. _

"It's not a joke," he said more calmly. "I swear, Emma. _Regina is the evil queen. _That's Sn-Mary Margaret's heart!"

"I can't believe I trusted you," Emma snapped. "I can't believe I trusted Mr. Gold, and I can't believe I almost let you talk me into this!"

"You mean you started to believe me?" He was suddenly hopeful.

"_No_," Emma hissed. "No, I didn't. And I will never believe in this stupid, twisted game you're playing. You wanted to haze the new girl? Well, consider it done. The new girl is sufficiently creeped out and disturbed by you."

"Emma, you can't think I'm still lying-"

"What could possibly indicate that you're not!" She shouted. She was so angry. Furious. He was just as bad as the kids she'd left behind in Boston.

"Um, how about the fact that there's a heart in a box in Regina's office? That's not normal, even for most town mayors, I'm sure."

"Just leave me alone." Emma thrust the box in his direction. "Take this back. I don't want to see you again."

"Emma-" He started, but she'd already turned and started marching away from him. Stupid. She'd been so, so stupid thinking she could trust Will. Thinking that she could trust anyone. Look where it got her.

Not knowing who else she could talk to, she dialed Mary Margaret's cell phone number. She didn't answer. She tried her home phone, too, and still nothing. Even David didn't answer either of his phones, and she knew he was off work by now.

That was weird. Never once had they not answered a call from her.

So instead of Regina's house, she headed to Mary Margaret's apartment.

When she got there, the door was cracked open. "Mary Margaret?" She called hesitantly, stepping inside. Her voice wavered slightly; she hated that, but she still felt shaky from that encounter with Will, from what she'd found in that box. How could a person be so twisted?

"Emma." Mary Margaret was surprised. She was sitting at the counter, with David. His arm was around her, and her eyes were glassy and red, like she'd been crying.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked, taken aback. She certainly hadn't expected this.

"I . . ." Mary Margaret seemed to be struggling to find words to explain. "Regina . . . Regina is kicking me out of town."

"What?" Emma gasped.

"She is," Mary Margaret sniffled. "She says I'm not a real teacher, that I don't have a license, it's the stupidest thing . . . I _do_ . . . but I can't find it, even though I showed it to the school when I first started teaching. But they keep saying they've lost their copy, and I _know _it's her fault, that she just wants me gone. But I can't believe she's doing this to me."

"She can't," Emma whispered, not trusting her own voice. This was insane. Regina wasn't _that _evil, was she? She couldn't possibly just kick an innocent person out of her town for nothing? For something she'd made up?

"She did," Mary Margaret said. "I have to leave by tomorrow, so I'm leaving tonight. I guess I'll go to Boston, and . . . I don't know. But she's talked Graham into agreement somehow, and I don't want to get the police involved."

"This is crazy," Emma said. She didn't know what else she could say. This was ridiculous! Mary Margaret didn't deserve this. No one deserved this, except maybe Regina.

"I know," David said sadly, "But there's nothing we can do."

"Are you . . . are you going too?" Emma asked.

David nodded. "In a few days. I have to look at jobs offered in the city. I can't leave Mary Margaret."

Emma nodded, swallowing hard. She felt tears burn the backs of her eyes, stupidly enough. She knew it was a selfish thought, but she couldn't help thinking _you're leaving me. _She would be alone with Regina now, in a town full of crazies like Will and Mr. Gold. She'd thought being stuck at Regina's place was bad enough. This was so much worse.

"I'm sorry, Emma." Some tears rolled down Mary Margaret's face, and Emma felt awful.

"It's not your fault," Emma assured her. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"What-what did you need? Are you okay?" She asked, sniffling again.

Oh. Emma had called a bunch of times, ran all the way over here, let herself in. But her problem just seemed stupid now. "It's nothing important," she said. "Don't worry about it."

"I didn't want to leave you with Regina," Mary Margaret said.

"Neither do I," said David.

"I understand," Emma said, and she did. They didn't have a choice. And David obviously couldn't stay back in Storybrooke. They weren't family or anything.

"But we can still have one last dinner at Granny's," Mary Margaret said, smiling, though she seemed sadder than Emma had ever seen her before.

"Sounds great," Emma said, struggling to seem cheerful herself.

"But I don't want to say anything to anyone, all right?" Mary Margaret said. "I don't want to have to say goodbye to everyone."

Emma understood. Or, at least, she thought she did. She hadn't really had to say goodbye to anyone in Boston, and didn't miss anyone. Mary Margaret had a whole town of people who loved her.

They went to dinner, and it was normal, except for that nagging thought in Emma's mind that _Mary Margaret and David were leaving. _They stood outside the diner late, no one really wanting to leave.

"I really, truly enjoyed my time with you, Emma," Mary Margaret said, her eyes glassy. "I'm so glad you came to Storybrooke. And I'm really going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," Emma said, hating how unsteady her voice was. She would not cry in front of them. She would not. "Thank you so much for everything you did for me."

Mary Margaret leaned forward and wrapped Emma in a tight hug. Emma hugged her back; physical contact like this usually made her uncomfortable, but this was an exception.

"I'll call you," Emma promised. "This won't be the last time I see you, will it?"

"No," Mary Margaret said. "No, it won't be."

They lingered there for a moment, and eventually, Emma couldn't take it. "I should probably get back to Regina's," she said. "She's probably wondering why I'm not there."

"Yes," Mary Margaret nodded, "You should get home. Be careful, okay? It's late."

"I will be," Emma said. She waved before turning and heading the opposite direction, and she didn't look back.

She did let herself cry, though, walking back to the mayor's house. Silently, of course; but she kept having to brush away the pesky tears from her cheeks. This still felt like some kind of cruel joke to her. But she shouldn't be so surprised; her whole life was nothing more than a cruel joke.

Regina was waiting for Emma in the living room, and Emma did her best to ignore her, to no avail.

"Where have you been, young lady?" Regina snapped. "I have been waiting for hours, with no call, no text, nothing-"

"You are a terrible person," Emma said bitterly. "All you do is ruin other peoples' lives. And I hate you. I _hate _you."

Regina looked genuinely hurt for the few seconds that Emma lingered in the hall before storming up to her room and slamming the door as hard as she could, hoping it chipped the paint. Hoping it broke the door. Hoping Regina had to pay for that, like she should be paying for everything else she'd done.

But Regina couldn't possibly be shocked by Emma's feelings.

Emma couldn't bring herself to focus on anything after that, not even her book. So she lay awake listening to music for hours, trying to drown out her thoughts, before she finally drifted off.

She was woken up sometime in the middle of the night by none other than Will.

He was knocking on her window again, frantically, and despite everything, Emma opened it for him. Maybe he'd come to apologize. Not that she'd accept it, but she appreciated the gesture.

"Emma!" His eyes were wide, panicked.

"What?" Emma asked groggily. Her head ached, from crying and the previous day's stress.

"It's Mary Margaret," he said, and she was suddenly much more awake. "She's at the hospital."

"What's wrong?"

"She . . . she's in a coma," Will hesitated. "But she was semi-conscious before she got there. And she asked for two people. She asked for you . . ."

"Who else?" Emma pressed. "David?"

"No." Will shook his head. "She asked for Charming."


	12. Eavesdropping

**Chapter Twelve**

"How is she?"

"Still in a coma," Dr. Whale said, a little sarcastically.

"How did this happen?" Emma wasn't allowed to enter Mary Margaret's room like David was, so she had to sit outside in the waiting room and try to get answers from the doctor. Who, it seemed, was the town's _only _doctor.

"Car crash," he said. "We don't know what caused it, obviously, since she didn't tell us. But it happened not more than ten feet from the _Welcome to Storybrooke _sign. Could have been an animal? A deer, maybe?"

"Well, why's she unconscious?" Emma asked. "If she just crashed her car, how could that happen?"

"Head trauma," Whale said. "Wasn't wearing her seatbelt, head crashed into the windshield."

"You seem awfully casual about this," Emma said.

"I'm not." Whale looked a little offended at the suggestion. "But this isn't too uncommon. What's unusual is that she was conscious enough to call 911, and when we got there, she was barely awake. She was muttering something about you, and Prince Charming . . ."

Emma's breath caught in her throat. Whale had confirmed it now, too. She didn't think the doctor would lie to her. And Will had seemed so genuinely shocked when he'd come to her room. Emma liked to think she had a superpower, that she could see through peoples' lies. It had failed her when he'd been telling her about the box, but she wanted to believe she still had it. And that it _wasn't _failing her this time.

"It's strange," Whale said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "This fits in with what that Will boy's been trying to tell us all. That Mary Margaret is Snow White and David Nolan is Prince Charming."

Emma nodded, not quite sure what else to say.

"And you," said Whale, "He thinks you're their daughter, doesn't he?"

"How did you-"

"I've seen the book," said Whale. "Their daughter's name is Emma. Your name is Emma. The Savior." He said "savior" a little mockingly.

"You don't believe him, too, do you?"

"Oh, no," Whale said. "I take it you don't, either?"

Emma shook her head. "Has she said anything else since then?"

"No," Whale told her. "She's been unconscious."

"So I guess she won't be leaving town for awhile now," Emma said.

"Most likely not," the doctor said. "We're doing what we can for her here, but honestly? It's not looking too good."

_No_, Emma thought. She was going to figure this out. Mary Margaret wasn't going to die. Not only was she not going to die, but she was going to stay in Storybrooke.

"I'll be back later," Emma said. She had to talk to Will. Dr. Whale nodded, and she left the hospital waiting room.

She was about to turn the corner into the hallway that would take her outside, but a pair of familiar voices made her stop. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but circumstances had changed. Mary Margaret was potentially on the brink of death.

"This is _your _fault." Regina.

"Not exactly, dearie." Mr. Gold. Obviously. "You asked me to design the curse so that misfortune would befall anyone who leaves Storybrooke. And misfortune certainly did afflict Ms. Blanchard."

"But she's _not dead_," Regina hissed. "And Rumpel, can't we call her Snow?"

_Rumpel? _As in _Rumpelstiltskin? _

_Snow?_

"I may have created it, but it is your curse, Regina."

"Exactly! You made it, so you can change it! I wanted her _dead_, Rumpel. If Emma finds out about any of this, that she has the power to undo it . . . I'm finished. Do you understand that? I sacrificed so much for this-"

"Yes, yes, I know that you killed your own father. No, that is not my fault."

"But-"

"I'm done arguing, Regina. Ms. Blanchard, or _Snow_, as you insist she be called, is not under my control. Should she live or die is out of both of our control. So I suggest you stop worrying about this."

"I can't! Emma coming here was bad enough, but if she finds out that she's Snow's and Charming's daughter, she can undo the curse. All she has to do is . . ."

"Yes?"

"Oh, you know."

"Tell me again, Regina. Refresh my memory."

"She has to kill me. Which, really, she should have no problem doing, with how much she hates me."

"True."

"Rumpel!"

"I wouldn't be concerned. Emma won't know how to kill you."

"Her friend does."

"Pan? I don't believe she's friends with him anymore."

"I think she is. And I think he's going to tell her."

"Enough, Regina. To do that, she'd have to believe. And that's not going to happen."

With that, she heard his footsteps retreat for the doors. Regina sighed frustratedly and followed.

Emma felt dizzy. They'd discussed the curse like it was _real, _like Will was right, like this wasn't just a game. Which, Emma surprised herself by thinking, it might not be. She was angry with herself for it, but she was starting to believe.

No, not starting to. She _did _believe. All of this was just too strange. And if this was real, if the curse wasn't fake, she had to break it.

By killing Regina.


	13. Broken

**Chapter Thirteen**

Emma stood before Regina's father's grave, with Will beside her.

"You have to do it," Will said.

"I know."

"I would do it easily if I could," he said, "But you're the Savior."

"And you're Peter Pan." It sounded strange to Emma, to say it out loud. She had decided she believed him, yes, but she knew it wouldn't feel so weird once the curse was actually broken, once she'd done what she had to do.

"But I can go in with you," Will said.

"Okay," Emma agreed. She didn't want to seem helpless, but the mausoleum freaked her out. It wasn't just a gravestone; it was a small stone room that, yes, contained Henry Mills' grave, but also Regina's heart. Which Emma had to crush, literally. According to Will.

She had to do this, she reminded herself. If she wanted to break the curse, if she wanted to save Mary Margaret's life, if she wanted a family.

She _had _to.

The door required only the same key that Mr. Gold-Rumpelstiltskin?-had given Emma to unlock the box in Regina's office. She didn't know whose heart that was, but Will guessed it was Graham's, since Regina seemed to have some kind of control over him. If anything, that would explain why they were together.

Emma unlocked the door, which creaked eerily loudly throughout the otherwise empty cemetary. There were only a handful of other graves there, and Emma had to wonder if anyone had actually died in Storybrooke, or if they were people who had passed in the Enchanted Forest. A stupid name, honestly, she thought, but was there really a better one?

Inside it was too dark to see, and even the flashlight they'd been using wasn't totally cutting it. Will slid a pack of matches from his jacket pocket and began lighting candles around the room, at the center of which was Regina's father's grave. Emma shuddered, knowing she was so close to a rotting corpse.

But more importantly, there was a row of shelves surrounding the walls. On the shelf at the back was a gilded box that undoubtedly held Regina's heart.

Emma took the box down from the shelf and unlocked it. Will watched, wide-eyed with anticipation.

"I don't want to kill her," she admitted. "I want to punish her. I think she deserves it. But I can't . . ."

"It's for the best," Will-she couldn't bring herself to call him Peter Pan-assured her. "You have to, Emma."

"I don't know," she said doubtfully. "I don't know if I can-"

Stopping her, Will leaned over and kissed her. Just like that. Pressed his lips to hers. They were freezing but surprisingly soft, and Emma found herself kissing him back. Her fingers twined in his hair, his hands cupped her face. They were strong, as Emma had always imagined them, but gentle with her, and, no matter how surprised she was, she wanted it to last for much longer than it could.

"I don't know why you thought that would convince me," Emma said quietly, once they'd separated.

"Did it?"

"Oddly enough, yes." Emma would have grinned, but she had so much to worry about. She had to kill someone. Yes, it was an evil witch, but still. It was murder.

"This isn't the real world anymore, Emma," Will told her. "This isn't your world we're talking about. This is ours. These are the stories that you've grown up thinking weren't true, but were. This is your family."

Family. Emma was finding that part the hardest to believe. She had a family. Or at least, she could, if she could bring herself to crush Regina's heart. Mary Margaret and David hadn't been strangers after all; they were her parents.

She couldn't pretend, however happy she was about that, though, that she wasn't hurt. They had left her. Sure, according to the book, they thought they were giving her her "best chance." But they hadn't. They'd given her the worst life possible. If they would have just kept her with them, if they wouldn't have sent her in that stupid tree, maybe they would find another way for the curse to be broken. Maybe she would end up being able to grow up with them, with the family she deserved, at their home in the Enchanted Forest.

She had to give them the benefit of the doubt and be grateful, though. She had to break the curse.

"Come on," Will urged her. "Who knows how much time we have? Mary Margaret isn't in the best condition."

That was all it took.

Maybe Emma just needed to be reminded of that, because she hesitantly took the heart out of the box and cradled it in her hands. Her first reaction was to drop it, disgusted, like she'd done to the sheep heart she'd had to dissect the previous week in Biology class. She knew, though, that that wasn't an option. That she had to destroy it.

She thought of Mary Margaret lying, near-dead, in the hospital room. She pictured Snow White lying unconscious in the book, Charming coming to the rescue, like David probably wanted to right now. She pictured Regina collapsing to the ground, writhing in pain, knowing she got what she deserved. Knowing it was Emma.

But she pictured everyone in town so happy to be reunited with their friends, their family, in a way that they hadn't been in sixteen years.

"Will," she said suddenly, maybe to stall, maybe because she was just curious, "How come the curse didn't affect you? How come you know about it, how to break it?"

"The curse never reached Neverland," he said. "It didn't wipe out all the other lands. It just took everyone from there, and brought them here. There were a few of us there."

"Mr. Jones," Emma realized with a start. Will had been teased her first day for claiming he was Captain Hook. But she thought Captain Hook was supposed to be ugly?

"Yes, Mr. Jones." Will grimaced. "Among others."

"What, is there a crocodile lurking in the creek?" Emma smiled.

Will didn't deny it.

She sighed. "Okay," she said, "I'll do it. Just . . . give me a second."

"We don't have a second," Will pressed. "Just do it, Emma, please."

Emma didn't want to disappoint.

She closed her hands around the heart, and the door to the mausoleum flew open.

"What are you _doing_?" Regina cried. She was clutching her chest.

"I . . ." Emma was caught. She froze. This complicated things.

"Now, Emma!" Will shouted.

"Wait!" Regina said urgently. "Emma, listen to me. I know that you hate me. I know you think I'm evil, and I know that you know about the curse."

Emma didn't respond. She didn't trust herself to speak, even if she could think of anything to say.

"But I wasn't the one who sent you to this world to be abandoned on the side of a highway," Regina said slowly, as if to make sure the words really sunk in. And they did; Emma almost felt physically pained, at the thought of her parents so easily giving her up.

"I took you in," Regina said. "I have let you stay at my house, I have been nothing but kind to you. I know who you are! I could have killed you! Clearly, that might have been the right idea." She eyed the object in Emma's hands wearily. "But I didn't. Because I know that being with me is better for you than staying with Mary Margaret and David. I wasn't lying when I told you how they got together. Did you know that Mary Margaret had an affair with David? That he was married before he met her? They may have been good in the Enchanted Forest, Emma, but they're not anymore."

Stupidly, Emma felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Stop!" She said. "Stop trying to get me on your side, because you won't!"

"I wouldn't be so sure," Regina sneered. "You haven't killed me yet, have you?"

Emma hesitated. "No," she said, her heart pounding. "And . . . I . . . I can't . . ."

"Exactly." Regina smirked, satisfied. "You can't do it."

"I can," Will said, snatching the heart from Emma. Before Emma or Regina could protest, or even realize what was happening, he crushed it. He squeezed it as tightly as he could between his hands. Emma watched in horror as Regina fell, gagging and clutching at her throat. It wasn't long before she went still, lying on the frigid stone ground, but it felt like forever.

"Will!" Emma cried out. "How could you!"

"Someone had to," Will said, though he looked just as disturbed by his own actions as she felt. "I had to break the curse."

"_I _had to break the curse!" Emma said. "Isn't that what you told me? That if it wasn't me, it wouldn't work correctly."

"I . . ." Will looked lost, suddenly, less ruthless and more frightened. "Come on," he said, taking Emma's hand. She let him lead her out of Henry Mills'-and now Regina's-gravesite, into the night-darkened cemetery.

"Look," Will said, pointing with his free hand in the direction of the town. At first, Emma couldn't see anything, and it came into view.

A giant, bright purple cloud sweeping through the woods towards Storybrooke.


	14. Family

**Chapter Fourteen**

"Do you think it's over?"

"I hope so."

Emma finally opened her eyes. She'd barely realized she'd been clutching Will like he was someone she'd loved for years and was afraid to let go of.

And at first, she didn't want to back away.

Then she remembered him killing Regina, just crushing her heart in his hands like it was nothing, like murder was not only something he was impartial to but something he was familiar with. And she practically leaped backwards.

"Emma . . ." he said, sounding hurt. _Looking _hurt. "I had to. Don't you understand?"

"I . . . I don't know, Will," she answered honestly. She shivered; that huge cloud of purple had enveloped them in an overwhelming surge of ice-cold wind, like a blizzard without snow.

"Do you feel any different?" He asked. "Do you remember anything?"

"I was only a few hours old when they sent me through that portal, remember?" Emma didn't bother to hide the annoyance in her tone. "Little young for memories, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry, Emma, truly, I am," he said earnestly. She remembered when he kissed her, how gentle he'd been, how soft his lips were. How she wanted more of him, how for the briefest moment she didn't care about the curse. All she wanted was _Will._

Not anymore.

She couldn't ignore the fact that he'd killed Regina like that. It was too much.

"It didn't work correctly, if it makes you feel any better," Will said.

"What do you mean?"

"You were right. I knew you were. You were supposed to be the one to break the curse, bring us back to the Enchanted Forest. But since I killed Regina, it didn't completely work."

"So we're supposed to be back there right now?" Emma asked. "In fairytale land?"

"The Enchanted Forest," he corrected, "And yes."

A thought struck Emma. "Mary Margaret!" She said. "David . . . Ruby . . . everyone. We have to see if they got their memories back."

"Uh, judging by that massive storm of magic that just passed over, I'm pretty sure they did."

"Let's go," Emma said.

"You still want me with you?" Will asked hesitantly.

Emma nodded. "You've been good to me, in Storybrooke. I don't want to, but I trust you."

He cracked a smile. "You know I didn't want to do that," he said quietly. "It was only so you wouldn't have to."

"How valiant of you," Emma grumbled. "Now come on." This time, she didn't take the hand that he offered her.

As they headed back into town, Emma felt disoriented and shaky. What she'd just witnessed was more than enough, but now she had to potentially face her parents for the first time. She had _parents. _People who had to love her, no matter what.

What if it didn't work? Maybe it would be better that way, she thought. Less complicated.

There were people crowding the streets, which were illuminated now by the sun, rising steadily in the distance. Everyone was hugging and reminiscing and expressing their gratitude for the fact that they were themselves again.

Emma felt out of place here. She'd come to know all these people in the last few weeks, but not well. And they would all know who she was now much better than she knew herself. They would see her as a princess, a future queen to their kingdom, which was a stranger thought than Emma had ever had.

She had planned to go to the hospital first, to make sure Mary Margaret was okay, and if not awake, at least recovering from the lifting of the curse. But she didn't get a chance.

"Emma?" It was definitely Mary Margaret's voice, from behind her on the sidewalk, about a block away from the hospital. Emma turned to face her, her nerves crackling.

Mary Margaret stood with David-though, Emma remembered, they were really Snow and Charming-not ten feet away. They both looked ready to cry, but not sadly, she was happy to realize. Whatever Will had done may not have worked completely, but it had worked.

"H-hi," Emma stammered, unsure of what to say. _What's up, Mom and Dad? _

"Emma," Mary Margaret said again, and slowly approached her. "I . . . I don't know what to say." She was regarding Emma with a kind of curiosity and amazement.

"You don't have to say anything," Emma said quickly. "We don't have to make things awkward. Just . . . I guess you guys are my parents?"

Mary Margaret and David both grinned. "Yes," he said, and maybe she was imagining it, but she could've sworn she detected pride in his expression. "Yes, we are."

Emma was struggling to find other words when they both threw their arms around her, crushing her to the point where she couldn't really breathe.

She didn't care.

"I'm so, so sorry," Mary Margaret said, her voice muffled by Emma's shoulder.

Emma tried to tell her it was okay, but found she couldn't speak. Her face was being smashed into David's jacket.

When she finally managed to wriggle free and inhale some oxygen, Emma did tell her. "It's okay," she said. "I . . . I'm not mad, or anything." And she wasn't. She was confused, maybe, but not angry.

"I can't believe I didn't notice," Mary Margaret said. "I should have. I'm . . . I'm your mother, I should have known."

That was so strange for Emma to hear. None of her foster parents had even considered themselves her mother or father. These people did, because they were. She finally had a family.

"I could have noticed, too," Emma pointed out.

"Me, as well," David said.

"Well, I guess we won't be known as very observant people," Emma said, and they laughed.

"That's okay," Mary Margaret said. "We're known for other things."

"Like?"

"Like finding each other," she said, smiling up at David. "We're pretty good at that. And, apparently, you are too."

"I think everyone owes Will an apology," David said, nodding at the boy, who lingered, alone, a little ways behind Emma.

"I'll be back," she told her parents.

"Yes," Mary Margaret nodded. "We have a lot to talk about."

Emma, happier than she'd ever thought she would be before, approached Will. She felt a small pang of guilt for him; everyone else was celebrating and reuniting with their family members, but he had none.

"Where are your Lost Boys?" She said, grinning.

Will gave her a knowing look, appearing to try not to smile. It didn't work. "Back in Neverland," he said. "Not everyone was brave enough to come here to try and break the curse."

"How modest of you," Emma teased.

"Emma, I like you," he said, catching her off guard. "And I know that you probably don't feel the same way, but I've-"

Emma, figuring it was finally her turn to surprise him, leaned over and kissed him. "I forgive you," she said.

"Good." Will slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly to him. "Now, we're not all in the clear yet."

"What do you mean?"

"This may be your world, but it's not ours." He looked around wearily. "We've got to get back to the Enchanted Forest."


	15. Magic

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Does anyone have any ideas?"

The town meeting hall was silent. It was packed with everyone in Storybrooke, and Mary Margaret and David-or, as Emma knew she was supposed to think of them as now, Snow and Charming-stood at the front of the room, trying to lead a meeting on how they should all return to the Enchanted Forest. Emma was sandwiches between Ruby-Red-and Will. She refused to call him Peter Pan. Some things about her new life, she knew, she might never be able to accept.

Emma sighed. A town full of people, all affected by magic in some way, and no one had the slightest idea how to get back to the Enchanted Forest? Emma, honestly, wasn't totally sure she wanted to go wherever that was, but everyone here seemed so passionate about it. It was their home, after all. But it wasn't hers.

"Where's Regina?" One of the dwarves called. Emma knew his name was Leroy here in Storybrooke, and if she had to guess which dwarf he was, she would say Grumpy. "Wouldn't she know?"

"Regina . . ." Charming hesitated. "Regina is dead."

After a moment of silence, while that sunk in, the room erupted into wild cheering. Emma hadn't expected that. She took Will's hand, because she thought he needed it.

"Who did it?" Another dwarf asked. Sleepy, maybe? Emma had just gotten to know all of them by their Storybrooke names, and now she had to memorize whole new identities for every person.

"It was Will," Charming said, eyeing him wearily.

Again, more cheering. The people around them clapped Will on the back in congratulations, in gratitude, but he looked nauseous.

"Does she know?" Red asked, leaning towards Emma.

"Know what?"

"That it was you two," she whispered.

"Yes," Emma said. "Yeah, she knew."

She turned to Will. "You did the right thing," she said. "See how happy everyone is?"

"They shouldn't be," Will mumbled. "I . . . I killed someone, Emma. I shouldn't be praised for that."

Emma felt a pang of guilt, herself; she'd been relieved that she didn't have to carry the weight of Regina's death, but Will did.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But you kept trying to tell me it was the right thing. I'm going to tell you the same thing."

"I hope it was," he said.

Emma didn't tell him this, she wouldn't tell anyone this, but she was mostly glad she hadn't been responsible for killing Regina for her parents' sake. She may not know them that well yet, but she did know they were the type of people who would frown upon that. When they'd told them what had happened, they hadn't been upset, exactly, more disappointed-which was infinitely worse. At least most of it was directed at Will, though, as horrible as that sounded.

"I have an idea," Snow said, once the room had quieted down again. "Magic beans."

Hushed mumbling began to spread throughout the meeting hall.

"There aren't any left," someone said. "Not here."

"We could grow some," Snow said, sounding a little desperate. "Find some. We cannot give up hope, people. We _will _get back to the Enchanted Forest."

"What about Rumpel?" Someone said, and everyone turned to the back of the room, where Mr. Gold-Emma felt stupid for never realizing he was Rumpelstiltskin-stood, leaning on his cane.

"Me? And what could I possibly do, dearie?" He looked amused.

"You're magic," the person in the crowd said. "You're the only one who's magic."

"I beg to differ, dearie," he said. "She is."

Everyone looked around, seeing if he was directing this at someone specific, if he was subtly pointing, but he wasn't.

"Who is 'she'?" Charming demanded suspiciously.

"Emma," Rumpel said, and Emma froze as everyone turned to her.

"I . . ." She stuttered, not knowing exactly what to say. "_I'm _not magic. Don't you think I would _know _if I was magic?"

"Yes," Rumpel said bitterly, "Given that you've grown up your whole life believing that magic doesn't exist, naturally you would go looking for it within yourself."

"Hey," Charming said defensively. "Rumpel, explain what you're saying."

He sighed, like he was tired of dealing with everyone in this town. "She is the product of true love, is she not? If that love is powerful enough, it can produce magical offspring. Such as Emma."

"But how do you know Emma is magic?" Snow asked hesitantly.

"I'm not!" Emma insisted. She wasn't, was she? She guessed she could handle the town around her truly being magic, other people in it being magic, the fact that magic existed at all, but to suggest she had any of it? That was too much.

"Prove it," Rumpel sneered.

"What do you mean?" Emma said. "How do I 'prove it'?"

"Prove I'm wrong," Rumpel said, "Which, I don't believe I am."

"I . . . I don't . . ." Emma hesitated. How could she possibly prove she wasn't magic? She knew she was right, but how to show Rumpel that?

"Let's start with something simple, shall we?" He moved into the aisle, limping on his cane. "Onto the stage, please."

Emma stood, and felt everyone's eyes on her as she mounted the stage where her parents stood. it wasn't even really raised more than an inch or two above the floor, but she still felt like the center of attention, and she hated it.

"He's crazy, right?" She whispered to her parents, who were standing together, watching her curiously.

"I . . . I don't know," Snow admitted. "I've heard of this before, but I never thought it was true."

"As I said, something simple," Rumpel said, lingering in the aisle. "Emma, please make a sunflower appear in the palm of your hand."

The request, especially coming from Rumpel, was so ridiculous Emma had to stifle laughter at first. Then she realized he was serious, that everyone was serious, watching her anxiously. Fine. She extended her palm to the crowd; she would give them the show they wanted.

Just for the sake of the citizens of Storybrooke, of the Enchanted Forest, Emma decided to humor herself, too. She imagined herself with magic coursing through her, with powers she always knew she had, powers she knew how to control. She imagined using those powers to make a single sunflower bloom in her right palm. Magic.

There were gasps in the crowd, and behind her, before Emma even realized what was happening. That there really was a sunflower in her hand.

_No. Impossible._

"Rumpel, you were right," Snow breathed.

"Am I really ever wrong, dearie?"

"Well," Archie said, "We know who's going to save us again."

Before Emma could address the crowd of people, she blacked out.


	16. Explanations

**Chapter Sixteen**

Emma opened her eyes to dim lighting. She was in her room, in Mary Margaret's house, lying in bed. She felt lightheaded, and confused.

"What's going on?" She mumbled, vague memories coming steadily back to her. She recalled going to the town meeting, and Rumpel accusing her of something . . . of being magic. _That's _what it was.

"Oh, good, you're awake," said Charming, relieved. He was sitting at the end of the bed. "I've had some bad experiences with the whole passing-out thing."

Emma was going to ask why, but then she remembered who he really was. Prince Charming. And his girlfriend-his wife-was Snow White, which meant at one point he'd had to wake her up from death.

"I'm fine," she insisted, sitting upright. "Just . . . what happened?" Her memory was still a little hazy.

"Well, you and Will broke the curse, for one thing," Charming said, "But since Will killed Regina, not you, we're still here instead of the Enchanted Forest. Which we would all _really _like to get back to."

"What's so great about the Enchanted Forest?" Emma asked.

"It's our home," he said. "None of us feel right here. I, for one, miss my kingdom. And I fear that we left it in a state of unrest, with the Ogre Wars."

"Ogre Wars?" Emma raised an eyebrow.

"It's serious," he said. "Not a great situation."

"Well, it wasn't your fault, for leaving," Emma pointed out. "None of you went willingly."

"True." He nodded, though he was clearly still unconvinced.

Snow entered the room.

"Oh, Emma!" She said. "I was so worried. Are you feeling okay?" She sat beside Charming; she was carrying a mug of something steaming, which she handed to Emma. It was hot chocolate.

"I'm fine," Emma told her. "Just tired, I guess."

They both smiled. "Well, since you slept the whole day, that's understandable," Snow said.

"I didn't know you had any sarcasm in you, Mary Margaret," Emma said.

"Emma . . . we never really got a chance to explain to you what happened," Charming said. "I know you read the book, so you know the basic story, but if you have any questions-"

"Why didn't you just keep me?" Emma blurted. "If you had, someone else could have broken the curse, eventually, and I . . ." she trailed off, unable to finish. She didn't want to tell them, _and I would have grown up with a family. _"I don't understand," she finished.

Snow and Charming both looked hurt. "It's complicated," Snow said carefully. "Of course we wanted to keep you, Emma. Letting you go was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and I didn't have the easiest life."

"So why did you?" Emma asked quietly. They weren't answering her. Maybe because she was right?

"It was the only way to break the curse," Charming said. "Rumpel told us. And we trusted him, because he made the curse himself. We had no choice."

Emma guessed she could try to understand that. She was their only hope. But they had been hers, and they'd betrayed her by giving her up.

She didn't want to argue. She didn't _want _to be angry with her parents. She wanted to forgive them, and if she kept telling herself that, she knew she would, eventually.

Besides, they couldn't have known she'd have such a crappy life in the real world, or whatever they called where she'd grown up. They truly thought they'd been giving her her best chance at life.

"I'm not mad or anything," Emma said, realizing she'd been quiet for a while. "Just, you know, this is a lot to take in. I guess that's why I passed out?"

"Dr. Whale thinks it's your using magic that made you black out," Snow said. "Since you don't usually use it, and since it hasn't been used here in so long . . ."

Emma remembered that flower just appearing in the palm of her hand, like it was nothing. "Did you know?"

"Oh, no," Charming said. "We couldn't have."

"I mean, there were always stories of people in the past in similar situations, but I never believed they were real," Snow said. "Not that I don't think I love your father that much, but because it seemed so impossible. Magic was always such a dark, evil presence in my life. I don't think I'll ever be able to think of it as something good, something that can help us."

"I didn't even know magic existed," Emma pointed out, sipping her hot chocolate. "Now apparently I have it?I don't even know how to use it."

"You'll figure it out," Snow promised.

"Well, I'd better do it fast," Emma said. "You guys need to get back to the Enchanted Forest."

"_We _need to get back to the Enchanted Forest," Charming corrected. "You'll love it there, Emma, really."

"I don't know," she said. "I didn't grow up there. I grew up here, and as much as I hated specifically where I lived until now, I like this world. The Enchanted Forest won't feel like my home. And as nice as you guys have been to me . . ." she hesitated. She didn't want to offend them, but she wanted to be honest. "This still feels weird."

"We'll make sure it won't be weird," Snow said. "You should see the palace. It's beautiful."

"How am I going to make a magic bean to get us back there?" Emma said. "And don't you need, uh, more than one? There's a lot of people in this town."

"Magic beans may sound silly to you, but really, they're very powerful," Snow said. "They could easily transport Storybrooke's inhabitants anywhere."

"Okay," Emma said, somewhat doubtfully. "But I don't know how to use magic."

"You might need practice," Charming said. "But you'll get it. We believe in you."

Emma laughed. "At least someone does."

"Will does," Snow said quietly. "Emma, I know that you only know him as the nice boy you met at school, as a friend, but in our world he's more than that."

"He's evil," Charming said. "He's Peter Pan. I understand stories here paint him as some kind of hero, but he isn't that way. He's full of dark magic, and he knows how to use it. I don't want you to get involved in that-"

"Wait," Emma said, setting the mug down on the bedside table. "Are you seriously telling me to stay away from Will?"

"From Peter Pan, yes," Charming said.

Emma felt a wave of frustration crash through her. "Look," she said, "I get that you're trying to make up for lost time. But you can't just decide, all of a sudden, that you want to be all protective and tell me who I can and can't-" she stopped herself. She was going to say _date_, but that was ridiculous. She wasn't _dating _Will. They were just . . . a little more than friends.

She threw the blankets off herself and climbed out of bed. "I'm not the kid you stuck in a tree and sent here," she said, not sure where all of this was coming from. She wasn't angry, exactly, just annoyed. She felt that, as a sixteen-year-old girl, she reserved the right to act this way, just once. "I've grown up. I can make my own decisions. Now I'm going to go trying to figure this thing out, and bring these people back to fairytale land."

Before her parents could say anything else, Emma stormed out, not looking back.


	17. Acceptance

**Chapter Seventeen**

Emma had never been to Will's house before.

She wouldn't have known where it was, but she'd stopped by Granny's to ask Red, who told her, with a suggestive wink and knowing smile. Emma had just laughed, assuring her it was nothing serious, but she got the feeling Red didn't believe her.

It was the last house on the end of Forty-Sixth Street, and looked relatively nice. It was small and Victorian-style, like all the other houses in town, and painted white, which was faded and weathered by now. The lights were on, and Emma hesitantly approached the door, stepping carefully over the icy front steps.

She knocked twice, and he called, "Who's there?"

"It's me," Emma said, and a few moments later, the door swung open.

He was wearing jeans and a dark gray sweater. His hair was messier than usual, but, Emma thought, adorable.

"Hello," he said. "Wasn't expecting you here."

"I . . . didn't expect to come here," she said awkwardly. "I just . . . I didn't really know what else to do. And I wanted to talk to someone."

"Well, feel free to talk," he said, "Although, inside may be better. It's a bit cold."

Emma laughed, watching her breath swirl in the air before she stepped inside. The house was warm and smelled like pumpkin, though she doubted he cooked anything.

She slid her boots and coat off, leaving them on the doormat.

"So, you live here alone?" She said.

"Yes. None of my Lost Boys were willing to follow me here." He didn't sound bitter, or even hurt. He didn't sound as if he felt anything about the matter, actually.

"What time is it?" Emma asked curiously; she hadn't bothered to check before storming out of Snow's apartment.

"About ten," Will said. "Are you all right?"

"I guess," Emma said. She didn't mean to sound dramatic or anything, but honestly, she didn't feel all right. Her whole world had been turned upside down and shaken up like it was inside a snowglobe, and she'd thought it would be easy to adjust to, but now she wasn't so sure.

But she had to do it, she had to adjust. Because now, this was her life.

Will's presence calmed her, though, for some reason.

"My father told me not to see you anymore," Emma said, feeling an amused smile spread over her face.

"He's right, you know," Will said, surprising her.

"Excuse me?"

"You shouldn't see me anymore," Will said. "I know that you will, because I want you to, and I know that you want to, but Charming is right. I'm dangerous, Emma. I've done worse things than what I did to Regina."

Emma shook her head. "You're not all bad, Will! You were the only one in Neverland to come help break the curse! That's not bad. That's remarkably good, even."

He hesitated. "I was trying to redeem myself. I've _been _trying to redeem myself, and then this happens. I kill someone. Well done, Pan."

Emma made a face, and he noticed. "What's that for?"

"It's just weird. You know, that you're _Peter Pan_." She grinned. "Does that make me Wendy?"

"Well, I haven't kidnapped you in the middle of the night and flown you off to Neverland, have I?" He said with a smirk.

"Not yet, no."

"Well, we've got to change that, don't we?"

Emma's heart pounded. "Really?"

"No! Come on, Emma," he said. "First, let's figure out how to use your magic. Then we'll consider Neverland."

"Can you fly?" She wondered.

Will sighed. "Your world's version of Peter Pan is such a nice one, isn't it?"

"So you can't fly?"

"Flying is the least of my concerns. Now," Will said, "Tomorrow we can start trying to get your magic under enough control to make some magic beans. Right now, you need to return home and apologize for whatever you told your parents before storming out on them."

"How did you-"

"I'm good at reading people," he said simply. "It's my . . . superpower, you might say. They're probably very upset, and I know that's not what you want, so you need to get back there as fast as possible and make things right."

"Don't tell me what to do," Emma said.

He paused for barely a moment before he said, "Kiss me."

Emma started to protest, but found she didn't want to. Not in the dim light of his house, in which they were alone, at night. This thought didn't escape her as she closed the distance between them and kissed him, wondering how she'd gone so long without him. He kissed her back somewhat urgently, like he was afraid of losing her. Well, Emma thought, even as they both pulled away from one another, she wasn't going to let that happen.

They agreed to meet the next day at the abandoned playground, where Will would teach Emma everything he knew about magic, and it would hopefully help. Emma knew there wasn't a specific deadline she had to have these magic beans made by, but she did feel pressure from everyone. It was obvious that they felt the sooner the better.

She returned to Snow's apartment-her mother's apartment-and dug out the key from her coat pocket. She was freezing, and sorry for what she'd said, and not really angry anymore. She'd needed that time away, however brief it was, to think about things.

"Hi," she said cautiously to her parents, as she entered the apartment and gently shut the door behind her. Charming was seated on a barstool and Snow was moving around the kitchen, maybe cleaning things up. "I'm sorry for leaving like that. And I'm sorry for what I said to you guys. I . . . I didn't mean it."

"It's okay if you did," Snow said. "We know you must be confused, Emma. But we don't want you to resent us."

"I don't resent you," Emma said honestly. "I could never . . . _hate _you guys. You just can't expect us to automatically be a perfectly normal family, like I've grown up with you, you know?"

They nodded. "We know," Charming said. "It's just as hard for us, you know. Just like you didn't get to have your parents growing up, we never got to have our daughter."

"Well, you have me now," Emma said. "And I have you. And I think we're all very tired. So I think we should at least try to be a perfectly normal family for the night and go to bed."

Charming smiled. "Goodnight, Emma."

Emma waved, and headed upstairs.

Snow appeared in her doorway a few minutes later, alone.

"What's up?" Emma asked.

"You were with him, weren't you?" She was smiling knowingly.

Emma froze. She played dumb. "Who? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do," Snow said. "I just want you to know," she said more quietly, "That if he makes you happy, don't give up on him. I'm proud of you for not doing that yet."

"Thanks," Emma said, and her mom turned to go to her own room.

Emma knew she didn't need her mother's approval of who she dated. But it didn't hurt to have it.


	18. Practice

**Chapter Eighteen**

"Now make a wave."

"_Stop _telling me what to do."

"You wanted me to teach you, didn't you?"

Emma sighed. "I wanted you to answer my questions, yes."

"And I am," Will said. "Isn't your first question, _how to do magic_?"

Emma laughed. She and Will were sitting on the dock, their legs swinging over the grayish ocean water. It was probably nice in the summer, Emma mused. She wondered if people in Storybrooke ever came down here to swim. She hoped she wouldn't have to find out, though; she was determined to make these magic beans soon. Like, within the next month soon.

"Why can I do magic now? Shouldn't I have been able to do it before, like when I was a kid? You know, subconsciously. Like Harry Potter."

"Who?"

"Just answer the question."

"You weren't in Storybrooke then," he said, "And the curse hadn't begun to break yet. It started falling apart the day you came here, you know. The clock started moving."

"That was me?"

"You're more powerful than you know, Emma," Will said. "At least, according to the story. Did you read all of it?"

Emma lowered her gaze to the water.

"You didn't!" Will said incredulously. "I can't believe you lied to me."

"I never explicitly said that I'd read the whole thing," Emma said. "And the only parts I skipped were the ones about me. They were just too weird, okay? It would be like if someone who knew more about you than you did wrote a biography of you. A little creepy, don't you think?"

"You will read them, right?"

"I . . ." Emma didn't want to promise anything. Still, she didn't know if she did or not. In that book was everything she was supposed to be, what she was destined to do, or whatever. She didn't want that burden on her. What if she screwed up? At least, not having read it, she wouldn't know. "I'll consider it, okay?"

"Deal," Will agreed. "Now, if you please, make a wave."

"What kind of wave?"

"Don't stall," he said. "Come on. I know you can do it. And don't pass out this time."

Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to drown out Will and the wind breezing by them off the ocean and even her own thoughts, except for one: a wave. She envisioned the now-flat water moving, swirling, rising into a foam-crested monstrosity, racing towards them-

"Whoa!" Will shouted, knocking her out of her thoughts. A huge splash sounded nearby, and Emma was sprayed lightly with ocean water.

"Uh . . ." Will said. "Good job. Try to keep it under control this time, perhaps?"

Emma was a little disappointed; excited, sure, but she wanted to see it. "How big was the wave?"

"Would've crushed us both." Will grinned. "I couldn't be prouder."

They continued to practice like this, and eventually Emma had to open her eyes to see what she was doing. Making it snow, just around them, making reasonably sized waves, making grass pop up along the dock. By the time they were done, Emma was exhausted. She could have fallen asleep right there on the rickety wooden boards wavering on the water.

"Good job today," Will told her as they headed back to town. "I think you might be able to save us."

"Well, I am the Savior." That was something she hadn't missed in the book. It was unavoidable, mentioned at least eight times.

Will laughed. "That's the first time I've heard you admit it."

"It just sounds so conceited, you know? Like I'm the most heroic person in town. Which, by the way, I'm not."

"Is anyone in Storybrooke really heroic, though?"

"According to the book, lots of people are," Emma reminded him.

They turned onto the sidewalk that would take Emma back to the apartment and Will back to his house, and were both surprised to hear an unfamiliar voice shout, "_Hey!" _from behind them.

They turned. A boy that looked about their age was running towards them. He was wearing weirdly old-fashioned clothes, like those in the storybook, and he looked frazzled.

"Uh, can we help you?" Emma asked, when he stopped short a few feet away, panting.

"I need to find Rumpelstiltskin," he said. "Do you know where he is?"

"Yeah, his shop's that way." Emma pointed. "Hey, I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"You haven't." The boy turned, starting to run again, but Will stopped him.

"Hey, what's your name?" He shouted.

The mysterious boy turned back briefly to tell them, "Baelfire."


	19. Baelfire

**Sooo that was a plot twist! Do you like Bae in here, or should I kick him out? And are you still into the whole Emma/Pan thing? Thanks so much for reading this, and I really appreciate your opinions and feedback!**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

"This is _wrong._"

"Like you haven't eavesdropped before."

"This isn't even eavesdropping! This is spying," Emma hissed at Will. They had followed Baelfire all the way to Rumpel's pawn shop. Emma knew she didn't have to go along with Will, and as wrong as she thought this was, she didn't like the idea of him knowing more than she did about who Baelfire was and why he was so desperate to get to Rumpelstiltskin. So she had followed him. And they'd trailed behind that new boy just far enough behind that he wouldn't hear or suspect them. She hoped.

Now, they stood around the corner of the shop, and Emma was well aware of how close they were; their shoulders pressed into each other. Baelfire had just entered the building, and so far they didn't hear anything. Emma was just about to point that out to Will when the door flew open. The annoying bell above it dinged loudly, and Baelfire stormed onto the sidewalk. Luckily he just stood there, and didn't peek around the side of the store.

"Bae, please don't leave." It was Rumpel, and he sounded genuinely distressed. Emma couldn't glance around the corner to see in fear that they'd catch her and Will, but she guessed he'd joined the boy outside.

"Really? You're really going to tell me that?" Baelfire-Bae, whatever his name was-sounded furious. "I can't believe you."

"If you didn't want to stay here, why did you come at all?" Now Rumpel just sounded sad, defeated. Emma guessed Baelfire was related to him somehow. Maybe he was his son, she mused.

"To show you how powerful I am," Baelfire said. "It was magic that brought me here. _My _magic."

"You-you're not magic. That's impossible."

"Not quite."

"Then how, Bae? Please tell me you didn't make a deal with someone to get it. Are you in trouble? Is that why you're here? Because I'll help you, I will-"

"I am here for exactly the reason I said I was," Bae said. "When you let me fall into that portal, alone, something happened to me. I don't suppose you're wondering where I went?"

"Of course I am! I was so worried about you. But I'm glad you're alive."

"I can't really say the same to you, Father."

_Knew it, _Emma thought.

"I went to the real world, first. This world. Then I went to Neverland. And it was there I discovered that whatever happened to me when I fell through that portal gave me magic. Magic to portal anywhere I want."

Neverland? Emma shot a look at Will, who avoided her eyes. Did Will _know _this kid? And if he did, why had he acted like he didn't? Emma's head spun.

"Are you sure? I don't think that's-"

"Otherwise, how would I be here?" Bae said. "It's how I got here, and it's how I'm going to leave."

"No, please." Emma was surprised to hear Rumpel practically begging. "You can't. Not yet. Just stay for a little while, Bae. We have so much to talk about. I want to apologize. I want to explain."

"There's nothing to explain," Bae said coldly. "I'm leaving. I came to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry," Rumpel said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Bae didn't say anything else. Emma watched as he moved his hands around in circular motions, focusing on the street in front of him. A massive purplish-blue cloud formed there, and just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.

"What . . ." Bae was confused. He tried again, and the same thing happened. The third time was no good, either.

"It's the curse," Rumpel said. To his credit, he didn't sound victorious or smug about it. "You won't be able to leave."

"That doesn't make any sense," Bae said, more to himself than his father. "It's supposed to work. It _always _works."

"You don't have to stay here, if you don't want to," Rumpel said. "I'll find someone else to take you in. But you won't be leaving this town until we all do."

"And how will you all be leaving?"

"Magic beans."

They were both silent for a moment.

"I won't stay with you," Bae said finally. "I don't want to see you."

Rumpel's voice wavered slightly as he said, "I understand. I'm going to call someone you can stay with. I'll be right back."

He re-entered the shop, and Will and Emma took off down the alley, around the back of the row of buildings until they got far enough away that Bae wouldn't see them.

"Do you know him?" Emma asked Will immediately.

"I . . ." He hesitated. "It's complicated."

"No, it's not," Emma said. "Either you know him or you don't, and I think that you do."

"Fine. I do. I know Baelfire. But I never thought he'd come back here."

"Why did you pretend not to?"

"Because I wasn't sure if it was him, all right? I haven't seen him in sixteen years."

"I get that you don't look older than sixteen because you're Peter Pan, but why doesn't he look older?" Emma asked. "He looks our age. Uh, my age. And if he wasn't that young sixteen years ago . . ."

"Neverland," Will answered. "Keeps you young. You should know that, from the version of the story you were raised with, right?"

"That's weird," Emma said.

Will chuckled. "Maybe."

"Did you part on good terms?" She wondered. "And why didn't he recognize you?"

Will shrugged. "It's been a long time. And I don't think he was very focused on _me _when he ran into us."

"Are you suggesting he was overly focused on _me?" _

"Perhaps."

Emma punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Shut up."

"It's true!" He insisted. "It is hard to resist your beauty, after all."

"Harder to resist yours," Emma teased, but her heart was pounding.

"Well," he said, stopping; they'd reached Snow and Charming's apartment building. "I'll see you soon. I'll try to answer your questions about Baelfire."

"I do have one more," she said. Will raised an eyebrow, inviting her to ask.

"What happened between you two? You're acting so strange."

"That is the one thing I cannot tell you, Emma," Will said with a small smirk. And he turned and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of his house. Emma didn't stop him.

Perplexed and exhausted, she headed up to the apartment. It was nice to be greeted warmly by her parents, rather than ignored by her foster siblings when she unlocked the door and went inside.

"How was your day?" Snow asked. "Did you make any progress?"

Emma nodded. "A lot, actually."

"With Will's help?" Charming asked. "Archie saw you two at the dock together."

"Yes," Emma said. "Will was helping me."

Charming just nodded. "Good," he said, though Emma sensed some tension in his voice.

She felt a pang of anxiety. She hated this. She didn't want anything bad between her and Charming. If she was going to have parents, she wanted to have a good relationship with those parents. She didn't want to upset or disappoint them.

"Emma, I want you to know that I'm not angry about Will," Charming said. "If he makes you happy, then I think that's great. I just . . . want you to be careful, that's all. I'm your father, I'm supposed to worry."

Emma grinned. "Thanks, Charming."

"Oh!" Snow said suddenly. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah?" Emma said, sliding into a barstool. She figured it was what she wanted for dinner. The answer would be pizza.

"Rumpel called. He asked if we would let his son stay with us for a little while. Would that be all right with you?"

Emma froze.

"He'll sleep in the extra room," Snow continued. "He really needs a place to stay. I don't know all the details, but I know what happened to him, his mother . . . I think this could be good for him."

"Y-yeah," Emma stammered, hoping they didn't notice. "Yes. I am totally okay with that."


	20. Snowball Fight

**Chapter Twenty**

Awkward.

That was the best word Emma could think of to describe Baelfire's arrival. Not that he wasn't polite and everything, because he was. But she could tell he didn't want to be there, and that he didn't really know how to act around them.

They'd had pizza, which he'd never eaten before. And at dinner, Snow and Charming had tried to lead most of the conversation, but Emma noticed that they'd been tiptoeing around real questions, like _how the hell did you get here _and _so how's the family? _It was just small talk, like, _how's the weather in Neverland these days? _

Although they'd obviously offered him a place to stay for as long as he needed, Emma couldn't see him being here long. He'd fit better, it seemed, in a situation like Will's. He seemed like he wanted to be alone.

And she couldn't get what Snow had said out of her head. She'd mentioned something about his mother. Rumpel seemed to be in a happy relationship with Belle, who Emma knew a little from her trips to the library, but she wasn't Bae's mother. So who was? And what had happened to her?

It was these thoughts-and a new book series-that kept Emma awake until two A.M. Hoping she wouldn't wake anyone up, she crept downstairs without turning any lights on to get some water. When she was heading blindly towards the refrigerator, she bumped into someone, and instantly leaped backwards.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her heart pounding from the surprise.

"I-It's okay," Bae said back. She could just barely make out his figure in the dim moonlight pouring in from the window. "It's my fault."

"I've always been kind of a klutz," Emma said. "Once, in third grade, I got new shoes that were a little big, and I don't think I could go up stairs for months without falling down them."

He laughed a little. Emma found herself smiling; she didn't want him to be so closed off from them. He could be her friend. It seemed like he needed that.

"I'm sorry you have to stay here," Emma said. "I know you don't really want to."

"It's okay," he said. "It's not your fault. And you and your parents have been so nice to me. I . . . I'm just not used to this. Being around a family, and everything."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn't even know they were my parents last week. You know, the curse and everything."

"Really?" Bae was clearly surprised. "You all seem to get along pretty well."

"Yeah, I guess we do."

They were silent for a moment.

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened to your family?" Emma asked hesitantly. She knew she probably shouldn't pry, but her curiosity won over her common sense. "Did you have one, back in the Enchanted Forest?"

"Yes," he said. "I did. But . . . I don't really want to talk about it."

"Fair enough." Emma tried not to be disappointed. If she'd been asked, she wouldn't really want to rehash her childhood either. "But if you ever want to talk . . ."

"Thanks," Bae said. "I'll, uh, see you tomorrow, Emma." He headed for the door.

"Wait," she said. "Where are you going?"

"On a walk," he said. "Do you . . . want to join me?"

Emma thought of her parents, sleeping upstairs. They probably wouldn't wake up. Plus, no one had really gone to school since the curse had been broken, so she wouldn't have to worry about waking up early.

Why was she thinking this over? Why couldn't she just _leave_?

"Yeah," she said, "Let's go."

They quietly left the apartment. It was freezing outside, and Emma belatedly realized she'd been so stupid as to forget her jacket.

"Here," Bae said, handing her his own coat. "I don't need it."

"Thanks," Emma said, and slid it on. It was big, and didn't smell like laundry detergent, like Will's jacket always did.

_Will. _

Emma wasn't doing anything wrong, hanging out with Bae, even if it was two in the morning. Will wouldn't care. Right?

"You seem like you're thinking about something," Bae said.

"Not really," Emma lied. "So, does it snow in the Enchanted Forest?"

"In some parts," he said. "I think. I've never really seen snow before I came here. It's nice."

Emma nodded. "So you've never had a snowball fight?"

Bae looked confused. "Why would you fight with snow? It's not a very good weapon."

"I'll show you," Emma grinned, and bent down to a patch of grass lining the sidewalk. It was coated with at least a few inches of snow. She balled some up and displayed it for him. "You take this," she instructed, "And hit other people with it."

He looked amused. "That seems strange."

"Come on," Emma urged. "It's fun. I challenge you to a snowball fight."

Bae grinned. "All right," he said. "Are there any rules-"

Emma, already running the opposite direction, hurled her snowball at him. It hit him hard in the right shoulder, and his eyes widened with surprise.

"Oh, you're so dead," he said, grinning and ducking to the ground to form a snowball. He hit Emma as she was running, square in the back.

They both bent down to collect more snowballs; this time when Emma started running again she had her arms full with them. She pelted Bae with them, and he chased her, aiming for her head. He missed except for one that grazed her ear; one hit her neck, and the snow slid down her shirt, but she barely noticed the cold. She was having too much fun.

"Hah!" She called victoriously when one of her snowballs collided with his forehead. "I am the Snowball Fighting Champion!"

"Not so fast," he said, and used the opportunity of her stopping to hit her right in the nose. Ice exploded over her face, and she didn't even care. They both stopped, breathing hard and laughing.

"See?" Emma panted. "Storybrooke isn't so bad."

Bae grinned at her. "Maybe not."

"We should probably get back," Emma said. "You know, it being almost three A.M. and all. Besides, I don't think there's much more snow in town to use."

Bae laughed. "Probably not."

They started walking again-Emma hadn't realized how far they'd run from the apartment. She was so distracted by this, in fact, that she forgot to watch her footing and slipped on a patch of ice; she lost her balance, but before she could topple over to the ground, she felt Bae's arms catch hers, steadying her.

"Careful there," he said, "This isn't good klutz weather."

"Emma?"

At the sound of the familiar, surprised and slightly hurt voice, Emma practically leaped out of Bae's arms, whirling around to face the houses behind them.

"Will?" What was he doing outside right now? And had they really come all the way to his house?

"Little early for a walk, don't you think?" Will stood two houses down, on his front porch, and she couldn't really make out his expression in the dim streetlights' glow. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.

"I was showing Bae around town," Emma said. It wasn't totally a lie; it just rolled off her tongue.

"Ah," Will said, a little bitterly. "Romantic."

"Will-"

"I just heard yelling," he said. "Wanted to see what was going on."

"It's nothing, Will," Emma said. "Don't be stupid."

"Yeah, _Will_, it's nothing." Bae looked at his feet as he said this, and it dawned on Emma that what she'd said was, well, mean. To Bae.

"Not nothing," Emma clarified to him. "I just meant-"

"I'll leave you two alone," Will called. "Not that you need my permission."

"Will . . ." Emma tried, but he returned to his house, and she didn't know what else she could say.

"Bae," she said, turning back to him. "I didn't mean that. I had so much fun with you. I just don't want Will to think anything's going on, you know? We're kind of . . ." She trailed off. What were they? She didn't think she could really call him her boyfriend; he'd told her he liked her, but that was so cryptic.

"I understand," Bae smiled, but a little sadly. "I don't want to cause any trouble between you guys. Let's get back to the apartment, shall we?"

Emma nodded, and they walked back, neither quite sure what to say.

* * *

**Sooo what did you guys think? I got a lot of different ideas from people but I liked the love triangle the best! Do you think Emma belongs with Bae or Will/Peter Pan? **


	21. Magic Bean

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"Coffee?"

Emma nodded, and Snow poured her a mug and handed it to her. "Sugar, no cream, right?"

Emma nodded again. She was exhausted. She'd been tired enough yesterday, after all that magic practice, and then she'd had to go and stay up until three A.M. having a snowball fight with Bae. Who, by the way, had left right when she'd come downstairs at nine A.M.-sleeping in wasn't in Emma's nature-"to go on a walk." Emma wondered if he was still upset about what had happened when Will had caught them yesterday.

_Will. _The thought made Emma a little sad, thinking how hurt he'd been yesterday. But was he really that jealous? She'd only known Baelfire for a day. Clearly they couldn't be romantically involved. Besides, did Will really have a right to be jealous at all? They'd never really discussed their relationship. He'd made it clear he had feelings for Emma, and she knew she had feelings for him too, but were they _in _a relationship?

Ugh. Boys.

"So, how was your walk yesterday?" Snow asked, grinning at her over her own mug of coffee.

Panic struck Emma. "I . . . I don't know what you're talking about."

Snow raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, okay," Emma said. "I went out with Bae. Neither of us could sleep, and he asked if I wanted to go on a walk, and I said yes, and we did."

"At two A.M.?" At least she didn't look upset. If anything, Snow looked somewhat amused.

"Yes. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Nothing at all," Snow said. "Just . . . be careful, okay? I know Regina's gone, and I know that we can trust pretty much everyone here, but I know there are still some people who were on her side. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I will be," Emma promised. "Who do you mean?"

Snow hesitated. "I shouldn't say."

"Do you mean Rumpel?"

Snow's eyes widened, and she brought her coffee cup to her lips. "Maybe," she said cryptically.

"Morning, Snow." Charming entered the kitchen. He walked over to Snow and kissed her briefly, then pecked Emma on the forehead. "Morning, Em."

"Morning," they both said.

"So, how was your walk last night?" Charming grinned, pouring his own cup of coffee.

Emma lowered her head to the counter and groaned.

"What?" Charming laughed. "Did you really think we wouldn't notice you _left _in the middle of the night? With a _boy_?"

"We're _friends_," Emma insisted. "I was showing him around town."

"At two A.M.?" Charming looked just as amused as Snow had been.

"No comment."

"Does Will know he's staying with us?" Snow asked curiously.

"Uh . . ." Emma paused. "Yeah. He does."

"And he's all right with that?" Charming asked.

"Of course he is," Emma said, trying to sound sure of it. "It's not like I'm going to date Bae. It's not like I'm dating Will. _Why _do I keep getting roped into this conversation with you two? You're not supposed to talk about that stuff with your parents."

"Why not?" Snow asked innocently.

"Because . . . because it's just . . ." Emma struggled to find the words to explain. "It's just weird, okay? Can we talk about something else?"

"All right," Charming said. "How about breakfast. Eggs?"

"Actually, I have to meet someone," Emma said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Will," she elaborated. "I have to meet Will."

"Ah, more magic lessons?" Snow asked. "Is he helping you?"

"A lot, actually," Emma said. "He seems to know a lot about magic. But he can only use it in Neverland." At least, that was his explanation to her. "Otherwise, we'd probably be back in the Enchanted Forest by now."

"Don't give up hope, Emma," Snow said. "Take your time, okay? As long as we're together, right?"

"Right," Emma nodded, though she could tell her mother didn't totally mean that. She wanted to get back to the Enchanted Forest just as much as the rest of the town. And Emma knew that while she might eventually be able to control her magic well enough to make those magic beans, it wouldn't be quick. She would need at least a month.

"Well, I'll see you later," Emma said, this time remembering to collect her jacket. "Lunch at Granny's?"

"See you then. Good luck," Charming called as she headed outside.

It was only slightly warmer than the previous day, and probably because the sun was shining now. Well, that was a good sign, at least. Emma did want help from Will, but that wasn't the only reason she was going to his house. She wanted to make things right, assure him that last night really had been nothing more than a little fun. Though, she might not call it _fun _to Will. Sticking to _nothing _was probably best.

She knocked four times, but there was no answer. And she knew he never slept in. So she went to the only other place he could be: the abandoned playground by the dock.

Sure enough, Will was sitting atop the rickety old thing, reading his book. His feet dangled off the edge, and he seemed surprised to see Emma approaching him.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he said, closing the book.

"What part are you reading?" Emma asked.

"Not an important one," he said.

"Look, Will-"

"You don't have to explain anything," he said. "I don't own you, you know. You're free to do as you please."

"Obviously," Emma said, a little shortly, "But you seemed upset."

"I don't really have the right to be, do I?" He cracked a humorless smile. "I'm not your boyfriend."

"Would you . . . like to be?" Emma practically cringed. She'd never done this before, and she had no idea how to go about asking a boy out.

Will raised an eyebrow. "I was worried you wouldn't want to be my girlfriend."

"And what would make you think that?" Emma squinted up at him in the bright sunlight.

"Well, for one thing, your father disapproves," he said.

"Doesn't that just make it more romantic?" She teased.

"I've done bad things, Emma. I'm not a hero. If you could read a storybook about me . . . well, you wouldn't like it much."

"Well, I don't know what you were like in the past," she said. "But I like what I know about you now, okay? So stop worrying about the person you used to be and start realizing that you've changed."

"Don't tell me what to do," he said, but this time he was genuinely smiling.

Emma climbed up the playground and hoisted herself up next to him, where he swung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He was freezing, but it didn't bother her.

"You never answered me," she said quietly.

"Did you really have to ask?"

Emma found herself grinning at that. "So I can call you my boyfriend now?"

"It would be an honor to be associated with you in such a way, Emma Swan."

"You talk weird sometimes."

"But you like it."

Emma craned her neck up to kiss him. "Yeah, I do."

The sound of footsteps pounding on the sidewalk not too far away made them both glance up, and Emma instinctively straightened up so she wasn't leaning so much into Will. She didn't know why; it wasn't like their relationship was a secret.

Soon, Baelfire came into view. He was running again, like the first time they'd met him, the same wild look in his eyes. He stopped short at the edge of the playground.

"I found it," he panted.

"Found what?" Emma asked. He didn't seem bothered by the sight of her and Will. Good. Although, she thought, why should he? They'd only met yesterday.

"The magic bean," he said, out of breath. "In . . . in Rumpel's shop. I found it."

Emma exchanged a glance with Will. Will leaped off of the ledge, and extended a hand up for Emma to take as she jumped down, too. She didn't, but the gesture was nice.

Will took a few steps closer to Bae. "Let me see it."

"Don't trust me, Pan?" Bae narrowed his eyes at him. Will's own eyes widened considerably. "Did you really think I was that stupid as to not remember you?" Bae said. "At first, sure, I was distracted, so I didn't acknowledge it. But I know you. And now _I _have the power over you, not the other way around."

"Bae, please-"

"I didn't come to tell you," Bae said. "I came to tell Emma."

"Baelfire," Will said, this time more firmly, "What happened in Neverland was a long time ago, all right? And I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Bae said. "And when Emma and I bring everyone in town back to the Enchanted Forest, you'll be stuck here."

* * *

**What do you guys think of Bae as the bad guy/Pan as the good one? Personally I've always liked Will/Emma better than Swanfire, so I think that's where this fic is headed . . . **


	22. Home

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"I am not leaving without Will."

"His name is not Will." Bae glared at him. "His name is Peter Pan, and he deserves to rot here in Storybrooke while everyone else returns to their lives in the Enchanted Forest."

"Em, it's okay," Will said, though he was clearly upset. "You should go. Take everyone with you. It's the right thing to do."

"It's _not_," Emma said. "I am not leaving unless everyone leaves with me. So you can go by yourself, or-"

"Or what? You'll 'make' some magic beans? Do you know how much power that requires? That's power that you don't have, Emma." When had Baelfire turned so awful? She understood that he wanted revenge on some people in this town, but did he have to take it out on her and Will? "When, exactly, are you going to start accepting that this isn't a book of fairytales? This is your life."

"Look," said Emma, "I just found out about all this what, last week? You've grown up with it. I just need some time-"

"Which is something you don't have," Bae said.

"Just let Will-Peter Pan-come with us, please," Emma pleaded. "He's obviously sorry for whatever happened in Neverland. He deserves a second chance."

Bae surprised her by appearing to think this through. "All right, Emma," he said. "I won't keep Pan here in Storybrooke."

Emma glanced up triumphantly at Will, but he still looked wary.

"It's a trick," he said, staring knowingly at Bae. "Isn't it?"

"Well, obviously," Bae said. "It's about time these tricks went the other way around, don't you think?"

Will sighed. "What do you want, Baelfire?"

"I will send you somewhere else," Bae said. "Away from everyone else in Storybrooke. Away from Emma."

Will cast a look at Emma. He seemed sad, but what could they do? Bae had the magic bean, not them.

"But first," Bae said, "I must send us back to the Enchanted Forest."

"Wait-" Emma tried, but he didn't listen. Before she or Will could protest, Bae took the magic bean he'd been holding and threw it to the ground at his feet, crushing it with his boot.

Emma could barely process what happened next. Will reached over and pulled her close; she wrapped her arms around him and held him just as tightly, as freezing winds began to swirl around them, so violently Emma knew it wasn't natural. So by crushing the magic bean, Bae really was sending them back to the Enchanted Forest.

"We'll be okay," Will said, though she could barely hear him over the roar of the wind. She liked that he said _we_, though, and the thought comforted her as the town around them began to spin. Like she was in a dream, the ocean, the sky, the buildings, everything started spinning in a tornado-esque formation around her. She couldn't make sense of anything, and everything kept spinning crazily even though the ground beneath her was still-at least she thought it was-and she had to shut her eyes. She leaned into Will's sweater, which smelled vaguely of the pumpkin-scented candles in his house, which grounded her a little bit.

Just when she thought her head might explode from all the spinning, it stopped. The wind ceased abruptly, and she opened her eyes.

Her jaw practically fell to the ground; it was _beautiful. _And they were actually there. In the Enchanted Forest.

The sky above them was cloudless and electric blue, and they stood in the middle of a grassy field full of flowers Emma had never seen before. Above them loomed a massive palace, and below it was a small village, in which people were now walking, disoriented as she felt, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"We're here!" Emma cried out happily, throwing her arms around Will's neck. Laughing, he hugged her back. Momentarily, Emma forgot Bae and his vengefulness towards Will, only realizing how wonderful this place was and how happy everyone in town would be to be back.

"Emma!" It was her mother. She and her father were rushing towards them, and Emma separated from Will just in time to nearly be tackled to the ground by a huge hug from both of them.

"Oh, Emma," Snow said, "Aren't you glad we're here?"

"Yes," Emma answered, when she'd pulled away and could breathe again.

"How did you do it?" Charming asked. "How did you get the magic bean?"

"She didn't," Bae said, making them aware of his presence.

Charming and Snow both regarded him confusedly. "What do you mean?" Snow asked. "Bae, was it you?"

"I knew my father was hiding one. I just had to locate it," he said.

"Rumpel . . ." Charming muttered angrily.

"But he said . . ." Snow started.

"My father is a liar and a murderer," Bae said bitterly. "Nothing more. It was stupid of you all to trust him in any way."

"Hey," Emma said defensively. "Leave them alone."

"Ah," he said, a smirk twisting his face. "I'd nearly forgotten about you and your precious boyfriend."

"Please don't," Emma begged, standing in front of Will. Not that she could really defend him against Bae's magic, but still. "Don't do something you'll regret. Don't be the person you say you're so angry with _him _for being."

"You don't know me," Bae said, stepping closer to her. "Don't pretend to."

Emma couldn't believe this. Was this really the boy she'd run around town with and had a snowball fight with just last night? It seemed impossible. This boy was so angry and bitter towards the world and everyone in it that she didn't know if anything could change that.

But she wanted to try.

"I do know you, Bae," she said, deliberately using his nickname. "Not very well, I guess, but I do. I saw a different side of you last night that I don't think people get to see often, that I don't think you like to show often, but I don't know why. People love a hero, Bae. Not a villain. You can still be a hero."

"I don't _want _to be loved," Bae snapped. "I _want _to be feared. I want my father-" He stopped.

"You want your father to fear you, like you fear him," Emma said quietly.

Bae glared at her, menacingly. "I've had enough of you."

He raised his hands, as if preparing to blast her away with some kind of magical force.

Charming leaped in front of her. "Don't you _dare _hurt my daughter."

"It's not your daughter I want to hurt," Bae sneered. "It's him."

And once again, he raised his hands, twisting them around and focusing on the ground, behind them, behind Will, just as he had on the sidewalk when they'd seen him try to make the portal. Emma whirled around and saw a massive bluish swirling portal open up just behind Will, whose eyes widened.

"No," he said, panicked. "No, Bae-"

He stumbled backwards, no longer able to maintain his balance. And at the last second before he tumbled into the portal, he grabbed hold of Emma's hand.

And dragged her down with him.


	23. Neverland

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

"I can't believe this."

"Emma, I'm sorry-"

"Will," she said, as strongly as she could, though she was shaking, "I like you. A lot. You know that. But it wasn't fair of you to _literally_ drag me into this mess, away from my family."

Will looked heartbroken. As if he'd been the one ripped away from his parents, whom he was only just getting to know, and his new life in the Enchanted Forest.

"Em, please listen to me," he said. "I didn't do that for any reason other than panic, okay?"

"Bullshit," Emma snapped. "You just didn't want to be alone."

"So what if I didn't?" Suddenly he was yelling, and admittedly, it frightened her a bit. "So what if I'm tired of being alone? You, of all people, should understand."

Emma let out a frustrated sigh and turned away from Will, heading further down the beach. It was dark out, so she could barely see the sand below her, but she heard the nearby ocean waves calmly lapping at the shore, smelled the salt in the air. She collapsed down onto the sand, pulling her knees to her chest and just sitting there, letting herself cry. This was all so unfair. This might even be worse than when Regina tried to have her kicked out of town, because then, she hadn't been quite so attached to everyone. She hadn't known Snow and Charming were her parents. She hadn't started believing that she was going to have a real family.

Will didn't come near her for what felt like a long time, and she was glad. She just wanted to cry. Which she was fairly certain she hadn't done in years.

Eventually he did, though, sitting beside her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head on his chest, trying to stifle her tears. She did not want to look like some stupid overemotional girl to him. She wanted him to see her as brave, as a fighter. Which she was.

She stood up, sniffling a little. "We're going to get out of here," she said firmly. "I'm going to get back to my family in the Enchanted Forest, and you're going to come with me."

"Emma, leaving Neverland is difficult," Will said. "I can't portal. Your magic isn't that advanced yet. And my own power has . . . lessened, since I left."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I won't be regarded as a hero here so much anymore," Will said hesitantly. "I left them. I left the Lost Boys, and they're none too pleased about that."

"But you did it to save everyone in Storybrooke," Emma said. "Don't they understand that?"

"Not exactly," Will said. "Understanding wasn't exactly a quality I tried to instill in them."

"So why did you help us, again?" Emma wondered.

"Because I wanted to change," he said. "I'm not proud of what I've done recently in Neverland, my whole life, actually, and as I've said before, I want to redeem myself."

"I'm going to help you," Emma said.

"You already have."

She held his gaze for a moment, unable to tear herself away from his clear, bluish-green eyes. But they had work to do. The Enchanted Forest to get back to. She couldn't just stand there staring at him all night.

"I'm guessing you know this place pretty well, huh?" Emma said.

"A bit," Will smirked.

"Do I have to call you Peter Pan here?"

"Well, here I go by Pan. But no." His smirk faded. "I . . . like when you call me Will. No one else still does."

"Okay, Will," she said, "Take me home."

"There is a way," he said, "But it's dangerous."

Emma snorted. "It's _Neverland_, Will."

"Exactly." His expression clouded. "I hate to mention Bae, but as he said, you've got to start distancing the stories you know from what is actually true. Neverland is a treacherous place, Em. If we can acquire some pixie dust, we can probably fly to the Enchanted Forest."

"Why don't I just portal us back there?" Emma realized. "If Bae's magic and he can do it, why can't I?"

"Portaling is only involved with dark magic," Will said. "And trust me, you're the lightest thing about this place."

Emma assumed that was a compliment. "Then how do we get this pixie dust?"

"Tinkerbell and her friends," Will said, frowning at the name. Emma had to bite back laughter. _Tinkerbell? _Seriously? Maybe she'd try to kill her, like Wendy.

"Really," he insisted, "They're very dangerous. Dark magic. Like the kind Bae has? They never liked me much."

"Where are they?"

"The other side of the island," he said. "Probably a days' walk. But we really should rest first. The Lost Boys have nocturnal tendencies."

"And where do you suggest we do that?" Emma asked. She was exhilarated from falling into the portal and returning to the Enchanted Forest and everything that had happened, but since she'd had approximately two hours of sleep the night before, she was exhausted.

Will gestured to the sand. "Perhaps a nice palm tree?"

Emma rolled her eyes, and they approached the edge of the forest. They found two palm trees to lean against that offered them at least minimal coverage from any potential onlookers (specifically, resentful Lost Boys) and settled there.

"C'mere," Will said, gesturing to Emma, and hesitantly, she crawled over to him. It seemed strange to her how natural it felt to rest her head on his chest, how relaxed it made her. Absently, he toyed with a lock of her hair, and she shut her eyes.

"Emma?" He said quietly.

She murmured something unintelligible, practically half-asleep already.

"I'm going to get you back to your family," he said. "I promise."

Emma would have said something, thanked him maybe, but she was too tired.


	24. Poison

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"Are you _sure _you didn't bring a flashlight?"

"No, Emma. I probably have one stashed in my shoe somewhere."

"No need to be so sarcastic."

"No need to be so childish."

"I'm not childish, I'm _blind_," Emma said, and her forehead was scraped by yet another sharp tree branch. "I can barely see where I'm going."

"Once the sun comes up in an hour you'll be fine."

Emma just groaned.

"Shhh," Will warned, pressing a finger to his lips. "We're almost at the river. If we can make it there without any Lost Boys' interference, we should be all right."

Emma fell silent again, marching behind him through the dense forest. She couldn't see any hint of a clearing up ahead for almost half an hour, during which she contemplated curling up on the muddy ground and falling back asleep for the foreseeable future. If, of course, Will would join her. He looked so peaceful, almost childlike, when he slept, so different from this hardened person thrashing through the trees in front of her now. He almost looked like Peter Pan.

Will had been right; once the sun began to rise, things lightened up a bit. Not much, but enough to see where she was walking. And enough to see a boy leap out of the woods in front of them on their makeshift path.

Emma jumped from the surprise, and Will backed up towards her, shielding her.

"Felix," he said coolly.

"Who's this?" The other boy snarled, stepping closer. He was a little shorter than Will, and a dark cape shielded most of his eyes and face. But Emma could see that he was clearly more frightening than Will. He looked evil.

"None of your concern," Will said.

"So you've decided to return to us, have you?" Felix stopped walking closer to them.

"Not indefinitely," Will snapped. "I have some loose ends to tie up."

"And I don't suppose one of those might be saying goodbye to your friends?" Felix raised an eyebrow. "Your _family_?"

"I'm sorry, Felix," Will said, sounding broken. "I had to do it. I had to help them. Tinkerbell told me-"

"Tinkerbell despises you," Felix interrupted him. "And with good reason."

"I'm well aware."

"Well, I guess I should let you and your girlfriend be off." He said _girlfriend _bitterly. "Good luck to the both of you, as I take it you desire leaving this island. You'll need it."

"Move aside, Felix," Will snapped. "That's an order."

Felix chuckled. "I don't take orders from you anymore, Pan. Things have changed. Now _I'm _in charge. And for now, I'll let you go. No sense in deterring you from your plans yet."

_Yet. _The word rang in Emma's ears; when exactly did he plan on attacking them?

With that, Felix disappeared back into the woods, out of sight.

"We have to hurry," Will said, almost panicked, beginning to walk again. Practically run, actually.

Emma jogged to keep up. "But he said he wasn't going to stop us yet."

"Exactly!" Will said. "'Yet.' I know my Lost Boys. They'll try to attack when we least expect it. They'll murder us without a second thought."

"Must be hard for you," Emma said.

"What?"

"These people used to be your friends. Felix called them your family. You must have been close once." As Emma finished this sentence, they reached the clearing Will had mentioned, where the river was. It was wide, but not too wide to cross on a nearby fallen tree branch. It was barely lighter there than it was in the rest of the forest.

Will jumped up onto the thick tree branch and extended a hand for Emma. She took it, hoping he could momentarily abolish her inherent clumsiness. "Not really," he said, but his pinched voice told her he was lying. He was trying extremely hard not to sound upset, so Emma didn't push it.

They were silent as they crossed the tree branch-turned-bridge, concentrating on not tumbling into the mysteriously cloudy water below. Maybe the crocodile was in there, Emma mused. And where was Smee? Were Wendy and her brothers in this fairytale? And what about Captain Hook?

She didn't ask. Instead, she continued to follow a faster-moving Will through the forest on the other side of the river.

"Does anyone else live here?" She asked. "You know, besides you and Tinkerbell and the Lost Boys."

"Tinkerbell's other fairies," he said. "She has a whole team of them. That's what makes them powerful. There's mermaids, too. Vicious creatures. Don't want to get tangled up in _that _mess ever again."

Emma didn't press him for more information on the subject, though she was curious.

They walked for another hour, trudging through the dense woods, no clearing in sight. Emma tried not to think of her parents, if they were worried about her, if they wanted her to come back as much as _she _wanted to come back. She tried not to think of the possibility that she might not make it back, might never see them again. She tried not to think of the Lost Boys. But the trouble was, there wasn't much else to focus on. Her footsteps? The back of Will's head?

Finally, they reached an opening in the woods, that appeared to lead out onto another beach. It was definitely mid-morning by now, but Neverland had barely lightened up. She couldn't believe this was such a dark, evil-ridden place.

"Shhh," Will warned her, and pulled her back by the arm when she tried to exit the line of trees bordering the beach.

Emma shot him a questioning look.

"See that?" He pointed, and she craned her neck to see a big wooden treehouse-like thing perched high in the trees above the sand. "That's Tinkerbell's and the fairies' house. Their pixie dust is inside there, and if we can get it, we can fly home."

"Is pixie dust good for anything else but flying?" Emma asked. "Because I'd love some food right now."

"It can heal things," he said. "There's a poisonous plant on the island that very few things can heal. Pixie dust is one of those things."

"Why didn't you tell me there was a poisonous plant? I would have tried to avoid it."

"Oh," Will said, "You'd know if you came into contact with dreamshade."

"We'll wait 'til they've left," he said. "They usually head out at least twice a day. Then we can get the pixie dust."

Emma sighed. She didn't want to _wait_, she wanted to get back to the Enchanted Forest. But if Tinkerbell and her friends were really as evil as Will said they were, she guessed there was nothing else to do.

"I really am sorry I brought you here," Will said. "It was wrong to take you away from your family, get you involved in mine and Baelfire's conflict."

"I won't ask you to tell me what happened," Emma said. "Because you know that I want to. But if you're not ready . . ."

"He came here years ago," Will said. "Three, maybe? He was thirteen. I was searching for someone, having my Lost Boys try to find him, and with Baelfire I thought he did. But he wasn't who I was looking for."

"Who _were _you looking for?"

"It's not important anymore," he said. "Anyway, I wanted Baelfire to join the Boys. He was smart, quick, had magic . . . I thought he would be a valuable addition to them. But he didn't agree. So I used a spell on him, thanks to some pixie dust I stole, to make him stay. When it wore off he was furious with me. I didn't expect it to wear off; it must have been his magic. He realized that I used it on some of the other Boys as well, and that just made him angrier. I tried to reverse it, but it didn't work. Bae left, and Tinkerbell found out I'd stolen her dust, and . . ." He sighed. "Everything fell apart."

Emma didn't know what to say to that. She couldn't believe he'd admitted so much to her; he didn't seem like the type of person to open up to others.

"I don't want to stay here anymore," Will said. "I don't belong here anymore. I just . . . I don't know where, exactly, to go. I don't belong in the Enchanted Forest either."

"You can," Emma said. "You can come back with me. I want you there, Will."

He still looked hesitant.

"Really," she insisted. "I get that you've done things you're not proud of. But so do you. And as long as you can recognize that, it makes you a good person. A better one than you think."

A corner of his mouth twisted into a grin. "Thanks, Em."

The sound of a door slamming stopped Emma from saying anything else. She turned to the treehouse, where a woman she assumed to be Tinkerbell-blond hair, green-brown clothes-was climbing down the ladder on the side. Two more women followed her, dressed in purple and blue. They were talking about something, but Emma couldn't hear what it was. She watched as they all landed on the sand and headed into the forest, far away from where she and Will were hiding.

"Now," he whispered, and she followed him cautiously out of the trees. They crept along the beach and approached the rickety wooden ladder.

"After you," Will said, and Emma started climbing. It looked unstable, but didn't sway or move as she climbed it, so she figured she was safe. When she reached the top, Will was close behind her, and together they entered the treehouse.

It was much bigger than it appeared from the ground. There were three beds on the far wall, a few doors that led off to closets, presumably. There was a small kitchen and a variety of random items strewn about the floor, maybe things that had washed up on the beaches of Neverland in the past.

"Where's the dust?" Emma asked.

Will was glancing around quickly, appraising the treehouse. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But they won't have hidden it someplace obvious."

"I'll look," Emma said, and they both set to finding the pixie dust.

She looked under clothes and shoes and in drawers, but couldn't find anything. She checked under all the beds, shook out the pillows and blankets, and still couldn't find anything.

"I got it!" Will shouted suddenly, and she turned to see him exiting one of the closets, clutching a ragged-looking pouch tied with string. It didn't appear to be anything special. He slid it into his jacket pocket. "Now let's go, before they return."

They hurried back down the ladder, Emma relieved. She was going to get back to the Enchanted Forest, to her family. Everything was fine.

They'd just barely started walking along the beach, though, when Emma heard leaves rustling nearby and suddenly felt a sharp, agonizing pain in her right shoulder.

"Will," she gasped, nearly collapsing to the ground, but he caught her by the arms and held her up. "Will . . ."

"Stay still," he said gently, though his voice was wavering. She knew he was just as panicked as she was, which didn't help matters.

"What . . ." Her hands moved to where the pain was, and found that there was an arrow there. Just sticking right out of her shoulder. Will reached around her and slowly slid the arrow out of her, only making more pain throb through her.

"Dreamshade," he said, almost to himself, but Emma heard him. And she remembered what he'd said about it.

How it was poisonous.

How not many things would save a person from its effects.

"It _hurts_," she said, barely able to get the words out. She clutched at her chest, not that it stopped the burning pain sweeping through her. She felt suddenly weak, like her body was shutting down, and was terrified. _I don't want to die. Not like this._

"Here," Will said, gently setting her down on the sand. "I'm going to give you pixie dust. That should stop the poison from spreading." Quickly, he rummaged through his jacket pockets until he found the dust.

"I need to put it on the wound," he said, and slid the sleeve of Emma's sweatshirt down just under her shoulder. Emma winced, and nearly passed out when she saw the place the arrow had struck her; it was a dark black wound, with black lines branching off of it, hardening her skin.

"This should help," Will said, his voice still a little shaky. Emma wanted to black out; at least then she wouldn't have to feel the dreamshade working its way through her body, killing her.

Will sprinkled some pixie dust on the area the arrow had pierced her, and though she could barely keep her eyes open, she could vaguely feel the pain begin to lessen, but only barely.

"More," she croaked. "It's not . . . not working."

"I'm going to use all the pixie dust," Will told her. "We're going to find a new way to get home, all right?"

Emma nodded, not thinking about anything but relief from the pain of the dreamshade, and Will poured the remaining contents of the bag onto the wound. This helped a bit more, and Emma watched the dust dissolved into her skin. She still felt too weak to move, though, as if her limbs were full of lead.

"Thanks," she breathed, and Will grinned, clearly relieved.

Something caught her eye out on the water, and she had to squint to really make it out, and even then she wasn't sure if she was simply imagining things.

She wasn't.

"That's the Jolly Roger," Will said, shocked. "Hook . . . he's saving us."


	25. Rescue

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"I thought Captain Hook was supposed to hate you," Emma said weakly, leaning against Will.

He laughed. "He might hate me, but apparently he doesn't hate you."

The ship was getting closer, not too far away from the beach. Hook stood at the front of it, waving them over. "Come on!" He shouted.

"Will . . ." Emma's throat was dry; she could barely talk. "I can't . . ." It wasn't that far to swim, but Emma was barely in any condition to move at all. Whatever healing the pixie dust was making happen, it was happening slowly, and not all the pain from the dreamshade poison was gone.

"It's okay," Will said immediately, and helped her to her feet. He lifted her into his arms, like she weighed nothing. "I'll get you to the ship, okay? Stay with me, Em, please."

She was surprised how desperate he sounded, and it occurred to her then, as he carried her towards the water, that she was all he had. He didn't have any family, no more friends, nothing.

She didn't only have to stay alive for Charming and Snow. She had Will to consider now.

"You've got to make it to the ship," Will said. "I'll help you, okay?"

Emma nodded, and he set her down in the water, letting her lean on him heavily as they stepped into the dark, lapping waves. It was freezing; instantly she began shivering. She was more than a little shaky on her feet, and could barely stand up, but the water helped carry her weight a bit. She wrapped her arms around Will's neck, holding on tight to him as he pushed off into the water, heading for the ship. She worried she might drag him down, but he was much stronger than she'd expected, He seemed to have no trouble swimming, even with her on his back.

When they reached the ship, which was much larger than it had seemed from the beach, Hook threw down a rope ladder.

"What's wrong?" He shouted down to them.

"Dreamshade!" Will shouted back, spitting oceanwater. "One of the Boys' arrows hit Emma!"

"Get her up here now!" Hook ordered, and Will craned his neck to look at Emma.

"Can you climb it?" He asked.

"I'll . . . I'll try," she said. "You first."

"We'll pull you up," Will decided. "Hang onto the ladder, okay?"

Emma nodded. He climbed up quickly and agilely, and he said something briefly to Hook before they both began pulling the ladder up to the deck. Emma held on as tightly as she could; her palms burned from the rope digging into them, but it was nothing compared to the effects of the dreamshade poison. When she got closer to the top, Will and Hook both pulled her over the edge onto the ship, and she lay there on the deck, exhausted.

"Where are Snow and Charming?" Will asked.

"In the Enchanted Forest," he said. "Things are chaotic there right now, what with everyone suddenly back home and all. They asked me to save Emma, and you."

"Me?" Will said. "I don't think so."

"They did," Hook insisted. "I think you may no longer be one of the most hated people in the Enchanted Forest, Pan."

"Doubt it," Will said.

"Now, what happened?" Hook bent down next to Emma. "Emma, where did it hit you?"

"Here," Emma said, pointing to her shoulder. "I think the pixie dust is working."

"Pixie dust?" Hook raised an eyebrow at Will. "Where, exactly, did you acquire pixie dust?"

"Uh . . ." Will hesitated. "Never mind that."

"We have to get you back to the Enchanted Forest," Hook said. "Pan, take control of the ship. I'll take Emma below deck."

Pan nodded, and went off to turn the ship around.

"Can you walk?" Hook asked.

"Not really," Emma admitted; she could barely keep her head up. She hated this, feeling weak and helpless. This wasn't her. "I can try," she said, struggling to push herself off of the deck.

"No need," said Hook, and he lifted her up into his arms easily, again like she weighed nothing. She couldn't help but think, as Hook brought her below deck, that she wished Will was carrying her.

Hook set her down on a stiff bed attached to the wall, and as much as Emma didn't want to seem weak, so was at the moment. So all she could do was lay there, wondering when the pixie dust would really take effect.

"Thank you," she said to Hook. "We probably would never have gotten off that island if it weren't for you. I really appreciate it."

"Nonsense." He waved it off, with his hand that had the hook attached. "No need in letting you both die here, is there?"

"Are you going to stay in the Enchanted Forest?" Emma asked.

Hook looked unsure. "I . . . I don't have anyone to stay for. I don't belong there."

Emma was struck by how similar he was to Will. Neither felt that they belonged, despite the fact that they did. "Where else will you go?"

He shrugged. "Not sure, exactly. Sail around a bit, most likely."

"That sounds fun," Emma said, meaning it. She would love to go on adventures like that. Before she came to Storybrooke, she'd never even been out of Boston.

"Well, perhaps you'll have to accompany me sometime," Hook said, smirking a bit. "Can't travel alone, can I?"

Emma knew he wasn't being serious, but she wished he was.

"It shouldn't take too much longer to get to the Enchanted Forest," Hook said. "I'll bring down some water in a bit, all right?"

Emma nodded and thanked him again, and he headed back to the deck.

The pain was gradually subsiding, and she was grateful. She was still exhausted, though, and drifted off to sleep, wondering what Will and Hook were talking about above deck.

When she woke up, not knowing how much later it was, she was startled by the presence of another person beside her. The bed was big enough that there was about a foot of space between them, but still.

Will was sleeping next to her.

Heart pounding, she let herself stare at him. She could barely make out his face in the dim moonlight pouring through the window above them, but that didn't stop her. He looked so peaceful, not angry or worried or anything but just _there. _She wished he could be like that all the time.

She knew now what he'd done in the past, and it didn't change her opinion of him at all. She knew it should have, but it didn't. She wished she could feel the same about Baelfire, the boy she'd barely known for twenty-four hours and yet somehow completely understood. Maybe it was because they'd been in similar situations for so long, abandoned by their parents, entirely alone, with nowhere to go. She understood that. What she didn't understand was how the boy could harbor so much resentment towards everyone around him; that would drive Emma crazy, if it were her.

"Just can't keep your eyes off me, can you?" Will's sleepy voice jolted her out of her thoughts. Embarrassed, she lowered her eyes to the coarse white mattress. She hadn't stopped staring since she'd woken up.

"It's all right," he smirked. "If I were you, I'd do the same."

"Oh, shut up," Emma said. "Don't be so modest."

"Modest? Me?" He inched closer to Emma, so subtly she almost wondered if she was imaging it. But he was mere inches from her face now, close enough to kiss if she really wanted to . . .

And she did.

Luckily, he did too.

He closed the remaining distance between them and brought his lips to hers, lightly and a little cautiously at first, like he was wary that she might break if he wasn't gentle enough. She still felt sick, but more as if she'd been suffering from a bad cold for a week. At least now she could move.

He kissed her harder, and she kissed him back, not thinking about poison or dreamshade or Hook or anything but Will. _Her _Will, she mused. He belonged to her, she belonged to him, and it was too late to do anything about it.

He rolled over, on top of her now, his stomach pressed against her own, and she managed to prop herself up on her elbows, taking his face in her hands and continuing to kiss him, not caring that her lungs were screaming for oxygen. Nothing else mattered.

"No fooling around on my ship."

At the sound of Hook's firm, slightly bemused voice, Will practically jumped off of Emma and sat stiffly upright at the edge of the bed. "N-No fooling around here, Captain," he said, coughing a bit. "Just sleeping."

Hook raised an eyebrow at them. "We'll be at the palace in a few minutes. I suggest you learn to keep your hands to yourself, Pan. Wouldn't want to deal with the wrath of Prince Charming, would you?"

Will didn't say anything else. Hook returned to the deck, and Emma, breathing hard, turned to Will.

"What if Bae is still here?" Emma asked.

"He can't do anything anymore," Will said. "No more magic beans, remember?"

"Maybe you should hide," Emma said. "I don't want him hurting you."

Will scoffed. "I'd like to see him try."

"I mean it," Emma insisted. "He shouldn't know that you've returned to the Enchanted Forest."

"He'll know," Will said grimly. "He'll figure it out. Baelfire is no idiot."

"I wasn't suggesting that-"

"If you don't want me around, tell me," Will said. "And I'll leave you alone."

"Of course not!" Emma said. "Don't be stupid."

"Then it's settled," said Will. "We'll return to the Enchanted Forest, whether Baelfire is there or not. And we'll see what happens with us, right?"

"Right."

"Then come on." Will climbed off of the bed and extended a hand to Emma, who felt about five percent less tired than she had a few hours ago. "Let's go get you back to your family."


	26. Return

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

"I'm feeling much better."

Hook and Will both raised their eyebrows at Emma.

"Seriously!" She insisted. Lied, whatever. She didn't exactly feel any better, but she _wanted _to, and that was something. She still felt weak, like her legs could barely support her own body weight, but she stopped leaning against the edge of the ship's deck for a moment to try to prove she could walk by herself. She didn't want to seem weak returning to the Enchanted Forest. Or to seem weak at all, really, if she could help it. Besides, she'd finally dried off from swimming to Hook's ship in Neverland, which helped a bit.

Hook sighed. "Your parents are going to have my head when I return you in this condition."

"_You_?" Will said incredulously. "It's not your fault, it's mine!"

"It doesn't matter," Emma said quickly, before they could start arguing. Maybe here, Pan and Hook weren't mortal enemies, but they still didn't exactly get along.

"Behold," said Hook, gesturing in the direction the ship was sailing, "The Enchanted Forest."

Emma regarded it with the same amazement she'd felt yesterday. It was, well, straight out of a fairytale. Electric blue, cloudless sky, a quaint little village and a massive palace above it on a cliff overlooking the clear blue sea. They were headed to the side of the palace, to a field of grass that bordered the water. Emma couldn't really make out any details, though. She wondered where her parents were, and if they'd be just as happy to see her as she would be relieved to see them.

Finally, they reached the edge of the grass, and Hook anchored the ship and unfolded a ladder that could be used to exit or enter the ship, digging it into the grass. Will helped Emma down, and Hook followed them.

They'd just started walking up the hill, Emma leaning heavily on Will, when a familiar voice shouted, "Emma!"

It was Snow. She and Charming were running down the hill towards them, and Emma instantly felt lighter, seeing them. Seeing them actually _want _her. It was still strange to her to have people like that, rather than people who were just obligated to take care of her.

But she wasn't complaining.

"Emma!" Snow cried again once she reached her, and she and Charming both crushed her in a massive hug. "Emma, we were so worried . . ."

"Are you all right?" Charming asked, when they pulled away. "You don't look too good."

"Dreamshade," Hook said. "One of the Lost Boys' arrows pierced her. Oh, yes, Baelfire did, indeed, sent them to Neverland. How creative of him."

"Dreamshade?" Snow looked horrified. "How did you . . . how are you . . ."

"Alive? Pixie dust," Emma said. "It's supposed to help. I think it's keeping me alive."

"Is she going to be okay?" Snow asked Hook, her eyes wide with concern.

"Should be all right," Hook said, casting a glance at Will. "Depends on how much pixie dust they managed to steal."

"Stole?" Charming raised an eyebrow at Will.

"It was our only way to get back here," Will said defensively. "I know it was wrong, but . . . look at it this way. If we hadn't stolen it, Emma may be dead."

"No, she definitely would be."

"Thank you for your input, Hook." Charming narrowed his eyes at him.

"Thank you for saving Emma," Snow said. "I cannot properly express how grateful I am, but if there's ever anything we can do-"

"I'll let you know," Hook said. "Goodbye, Pan. Emma, I hope you're feeling better soon." He nodded at all of them, and turned to climb back onto his ship.

"We should get you inside," Snow said to Emma, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. She turned to Will. "I'm glad you're back," she said, a little tightly. Emma could tell she was holding something back.

Will nodded at them. "I'll be off, then. Goodbye, Emma." He bowed his head politely at her.

"Will," Emma nodded back.

"Next time you want to drag someone into a portal with you," Charming said, "Make sure it's not my daughter."

Emma wanted to defend Will, but what could she say? He _had _dragged her through that portal, and he shouldn't have. So she just watched him walk away, not glancing back at her and her parents.

They guided her up the hill to the palace, and she told them all about Neverland. How she'd run into a threatening Lost Boy, snuck into Tinkerbell's treehouse to get the pixie dust, how she'd been shot by an arrow tipped with fatal poison. She didn't really get into that aspect of their trip; she didn't feel like discussing it just yet, and she didn't like knowing how close she'd come to dying.

"You'll love the palace," Snow said. "I suppose we can show you around another time, when you're feeling better, maybe tomorrow? But it's just wonderful. Exactly how we left it."

"You guys don't look too great, either," Emma pointed out. "Unless I'm imagining those dark circles under your eyes."

They exchanged a look. "We didn't really sleep last night," Snow said.

"Because of _me_?" No one had ever been close to that concerned about her before.

"Well, yes," Charming said. "We were worried about you."

"Not to mention that everyone's been storming the palace all day, asking what to do about their houses and their property and everything," Snow added. "I've almost forgotten what it's like to be queen."

"So we're the royal family?" The thought made Emma want to laugh.

"Yes," Snow answered, smiling. They had reached a side door of the palace now, and a guard standing there opened the door for them. "We are."

"I'll take you upstairs," Snow said, "And get you some new clothes. And a hot bath. And whatever else you need, all right?"

Emma nodded. Charming went off to deal with people from the villages surrounding the palace, and Snow led Emma upstairs.

Emma couldn't believe this place actually existed, much less the fact that she was going to _live _here now. It was impossibly massive, with dozens of winding staircases and doorways and regal-looking portraits lining the walls and palace staff bustling everywhere.

"Here it is," Snow said, opening a door to a bedroom upstairs for Emma. "At least, this is one of our bedchambers. You obviously don't have to stay in this one, but your old room . . ."

"My old room?"

"Yes." Snow smiled, a little sadly. "You left before you could spend any time in it. But we thought we would have more time with you, obviously, and we . . . designed you a room."

"Can I see it?" Emma asked.

Snow looked surprised at the request. "I don't see why not," she said. "Here, this way."

Emma followed her further down the corridor and around a corner, then down another hallway. She felt like collapsing on the dusty stone floor, but she was so curious to see the life she could have had, if Regina hadn't enacted the curse.

"Here it is," Snow said, and hesitantly opened the door, almost as if she was afraid of what was inside.

Emma stepped in after her, and her eyes widened as she took it in. The room was bigger than the last foster home she'd been in; it was lined with every kind of toy and book imaginable, and frilly purple curtains matched the blankets nestled in a tiny white crib. Her throat felt tight. This was supposed to be her life. This was supposed to be her home. Not a string of crappy houses assigned to her by Social Services, but _this. _

"Isn't it nice?" Snow said. Her eyes were glassy. "I guess I knew in the back of my mind that you might not get to spend any time here, but I never thought . . ." she trailed off, her voice wavering. "I just didn't think you'd be taken from us for so long," she finally said.

"I'm here now," Emma told her, in an effort to cheer her up. "And I . . . I want to stay in this room."

Snow looked at her curiously. "Really?"

"Yeah. If I hadn't been sent through that tree thing to the real world, I would be living in here. This would still be my room, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," Snow said, sounding a little happier now. "Yes, I suppose so."

"So I'm going to stay here, if that's all right. Obviously, I'll have to redecorate a bit . . ."

"Yes, of course!" Snow said immediately. "I'll have it ready by the end of the week."

Emma grinned. "Sounds good."

Snow led her back to the guest bedroom, where she had a maid run her a bath-Emma hadn't taken a bath since she was five, but she guessed there were no showers in the Enchanted Forest-and showed her a closet full of new clothes were.

"They were my old dresses," Snow said. "I hope they fit, until we can have some of your own made."

Emma felt exponentially better after cleaning the grime from Neverland off her and seeing in the room's vanity mirror that the dreamshade wound had nearly faded completely. She was starting to feel stronger, too; the dust was really taking effect.

_Thanks, Will._

She examined the closet full of dresses, alarmed. Each one seemed girlier and frillier than the last, and that simply wasn't her style. But that was just something else she was going to have to get used to, she guessed. She chose to slip on a light blue one that had the least amount of embellishments; it was just a simple silk dress with some lace around the hem and short sleeves. Nothing crazy.

She wanted to explore the palace, but more than that, she was exhausted. So she lay down on the room's massive bed and drifted off, finally feeling at peace with herself.

She was shaken awake sometime later by Snow. It was dark out, and dark in the room except for a lantern that her mother carried.

"Emma," she said frantically. "Emma, please wake up."

"What?" Emma said, confused. What was going on?

"Emma, the guards were on their night patrol, and they . . . they found something," Snow said cautiously. Her voice shook uncharacteristically; something terrible must have happened to make her so upset.

"What did they find?" Emma asked.

"They found a body."

* * *

**Sooo who do you think it is? A major character? A villain? Someone Emma knows? I think you might be surprised . . .**


	27. Blame

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Emma shivered.

She couldn't believe someone would do this. True, she hadn't stopped Will from killing Regina, and she'd even been prepared to do it herself. But this was different. That had been to break the curse, to bring everyone back to the Enchanted Forest. Regina was thoroughly evil, she deserved it. But Emma didn't think they boy lying dead in front of her did.

"Do you know who did it?" Snow asked.

Charming shook his head. "He wasn't caught. But one of the guards was out here and saw _him_ . . ."

Emma finally tore her gaze away from Bae. His eyes were opened, as if startled, and she couldn't see the wound in his back where he'd been stabbed with a sword. She didn't want to.

"Who do you think it was?" Emma asked.

Charming just shook his head. "I don't have any idea, honestly. I didn't think anyone here hated him enough to kill him. I know that he was planning some evil things, but we could have helped him. This didn't have to happen."

Snow nodded in agreement.

Emma had a horrible thought, and she felt guilty afterwards: _what if it was Will? _It would make sense, as much as she hated to admit it. Bae's father wouldn't kill him, would he? He was so desperate to get him back on his side. But Will could. She'd seen how capable he was of killing, with Regina, and Bae was out to get him. Wouldn't he want to stop him, even if the only way to do that was by killing him?

No, she told herself. You can't think that. Will needs you to trust him.

"You should go back inside," Charming said to Snow and Emma.

"So should you," Snow said. "We'll have the guards take his body."

"And do what with it?" Charming asked.

"His father should decide that," Snow said tightly. "We should notify Rumpel first."

"Yes," Charming agreed. "We will."

Emma followed them back to the palace, wondering who killed Baelfire.

Wondering, in the back of her mind, if it was Will.

* * *

Rumpel came the next day, appearing magically at the palace doors, and he looked so defeated. Deeply saddened, yes, but more as if he'd simply given up on everything. It wasn't as if he was alone, though; he still had Belle. And he never really had Bae in the first place, had he? Not for a long time, at least.

Emma guessed she wouldn't know. She'd never lost someone in her family before.

Charming and Snow led him into a side room off of the entranceway, and Emma retreated to the bedroom she was staying in. To her surprise, Will was seated on the vanity table, examining something in his hands.

A sword.

Stained with blood.

"Will . . ." Emma's breath caught in her throat. _No. _He hadn't done this. It wasn't possible. He was trying to be better, to redeem himself. He wouldn't kill someone.

"I found this," he said. "It's not mine."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. "Why the hell would you do that? Put it back!"

"It's evidence," he said, "And I plan to use it. If anyone decides to investigate this, if I don't have the sword, it will look like I did it."

"Why?"

"Because Baelfire asked me to meet him in the forest last night. He sent me a letter. When I got there, he was dead. But it wasn't me."

"Whose sword is that?" Emma asked.

"Rumpelstiltskin's," he said. "I knew it. I _knew _he wouldn't be able to just let Bae go. I _knew _he would do something like this."

"Why would he leave his sword at the scene?" Emma asked. "That's just lazy, and a more than a little stupid, if you ask me."

"Because he wants to be caught," Will said. "He's tired of everything. He wants to be imprisoned, he wants to be done with life. Other than Belle, he hasn't anything to live for anymore."

"Isn't love enough?"

"Not for some people." They stared at each other for a moment, and it occurred to Emma that they hadn't ever told each other that they loved each other. She didn't _love _Will, yet, she didn't think. That was extreme. She wasn't ready for that. And she doubted he _loved _her, either; they were attracted to each other. That was all. They liked one another. She could live with that.

"So why don't you turn him in?"

"I will," he said, "If I'm accused. Which I probably will be. But if not, I plan to mess with him a bit. He deserves it, you know. He deserves to live with knowing he did this and wasn't punished in any way. That itself might kill him, too."

"Will-"

"Don't say my name like that," he said. "He does deserve it. That's not me being evil. That's Rumpel being just as bad as Regina, which he is."

Emma didn't know what to say. Rumpel had killed Bae, his own son. Charming wouldn't consider killing her, she was sure, no matter what the circumstances were.

"Okay," she said finally. "I won't tell you what to do."

"Good."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"So, I should probably go," Will said.

"Okay."

"I'll see you tomorrow night, though," he said.

"Where?" Emma was confused. Was he asking her out on a date? _Now? _That seemed out of place.

"At the ball your parents are throwing for the kingdom," he clarified. "I don't think they'll cancel. Everyone's been looking forward to it."

"How do you know about it when I don't?"

"I expect your parents were going to tell you, but certain events deterred them," Will said. "Anyways, you should get back to them. I'm sure they'd like to spend some time with you. You know, make up for the last sixteen years and all."

Emma grinned. "See you tomorrow." _At the ball. _She was going to attend an actual _ball. _This was so weird.

Will waved and disappeared out the window. She didn't even want to know how he'd scaled the two-story wall. Heights terrified her.

Now, so did Rumpel. If he was willing to kill his own son, what else could he do?

She shivered, grateful not for the first time that she had her parents.


	28. Happy

**So, this is the last chapter of my fic, and I'm so happy with how it ended and I'm _so _grateful for everyone who's read it! And especially those who fangirled about OUAT with me and reviewed this. I love you guys! And I really hope you're as satisfied with this ending as I am.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

"Oh, Emma, you look beautiful."

Emma scoffed. "I feel like a doll," she complained, examining herself in the vanity mirror of her new bedroom, which was miraculously ready just two days later. It wasn't as frilly as the other one, and she loved it. Snow had given her the blue dress that was much fancier than the first one she'd tried on in the Enchanted Forest. It had a tight top with straps so thin they were practically invisible, and a puffy tulle skirt. She'd wanted to braid her hair, but Snow insisted she keep it down. It was long, hanging halfway down her back, and her height was elevated a few inches by the heels that had been thrust upon her. She was still learning to walk in them, but she didn't mind the extra height. It made her feel more . . . powerful, somehow.

"You do look like a doll," Snow countered, grinning. "A very, very pretty one."

Emma rolled her eyes but smiled at her mother. She didn't respond well to compliments.

Snow looked so much prettier, Emma thought. She was wearing a long white dress similar to a wedding gown, all tulle and silk like Emma's dress. And ruby earrings and a necklace. She carried the jewelry well. Emma wore only the silver circle necklace Snow had given her so many weeks ago, the night they'd gone to Regina's house for dinner. She hadn't taken it off since.

"So, what exactly is this ball for?" Emma asked.

"Well, we want to celebrate our return to the Enchanted Forest," Snow said. "People here love celebrations. And we wanted to honor your return, as well."

"Me?" Emma raised an eyebrow.

"You are the princess," Snow pointed out. "You're going to take over this place as queen someday. Now is a good time to get to know your subjects, how the kingdom works. You've got a _lot _to learn."

"I bet." She guessed it beat Algebra and Biology, but still, it was a lot to handle. Emma hated responsibility more than anything.

"So," Snow said, grinning coyly, "Do you think you'll end up dancing with anyone tonight?"

Emma hesitated. She knew her parents weren't Will's biggest fans. But they were reasonable, understanding people, and she was sure that they would come to like him just as she did.

"Yes," she decided to answer. "Will said he'd be here."

"Good," Snow said, and Emma was pleased that she seemed to genuinely mean it. "He seems to make you very happy, Em. I'm glad you found someone like . . ." she trailed off.

"Like Charming?" Emma laughed. "Will is hardly Prince Charming."

"He did save your life," Snow said. "I can't tell you how many times your father saved mine. You care about him. He cares about you. I can tell that he really is trying to be better, and I think it's because of you. I know your father agrees, too."

"What do I agree with?"

Emma and Snow both glanced up to the doorway, where Charming now stood. He was dressed in a formal white suit with those gold things on the shoulders, like Prince Eric's suit from _The Little Mermaid. _Not that he would know what that was if Emma bothered pointing it out.

"That Will is right for Emma," Snow said.

Charming nodded, straightening his jacket. "I do agree with that, yes."

"Thanks, Dad," Emma grinned.

He stared at her for a moment, probably amazed that she'd finally called him that. It didn't feel weird to her, for some reason. And she was inevitably going to end up calling them _Mom _and _Dad _eventually, so why not start now?

"So, we should be getting down there soon," Snow said. "Nearly all the guests are here."

"Who'd you invite?" Emma asked. "The whole kingdom?"

Charming and Snow both shrugged. "Pretty much," Snow said.

"So, what exactly is this celebrating again?" Emma wondered. "Just, like, what you said? Returning to the Enchanted Forest and everything?"

"Well." Charming and Snow both exchanged a look. "You didn't think we'd forget, did you?"

"Well, before, you didn't say anything . . ." Emma couldn't help it. She was grinning, just like them. "It wasn't so ridiculous to assume you might forget. I mean, I've never celebrated a birthday with you guys before."

She hadn't meant it to, but a kind of saddened look crossed both her parents' faces.

"Hey!" Emma said quickly. "I didn't mean it! I don't care! It was a stupid thing to say."

"Not stupid," said Snow. "I just . . . I wish it wasn't right, that's all."

Emma sighed. "I don't know how many times I can tell you it's not your fault, and that I'm not mad, and that it doesn't matter, because we're all together now. I _won't _say it again. I have exhausted my reassurances for the rest of my life."

They both smiled at that.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"We're proud," Snow said. "This was how I wanted to raise you, you know. To be positive, no matter what happens to you."

"And I wanted to raise you to fight dragons," Charming said. "We'll work on that."

Emma's eyes widened. "Are there dragons here?"

Snow shot Charming a look.

"Can I have one?" Emma pleaded. "A little one? Like, a cute one. I want to call it Blaze. Or maybe-"

"No dragons," Snow said firmly. "But you can have a horse."

"I don't know how to ride a horse."

"You don't know how to take care of a dragon," Snow pointed out.

Emma couldn't argue with that.

"Anyways," Charming said, "You look beautiful. And so do you," he said, turning from Snow to Emma.

"As do you," Emma replied, and he laughed.

"Now, I think it's actually time we get down there. You can't be late for your own ball, can you?" Snow said, and she took Charming's arm.

Emma shrugged, and nearly collided with their backs when they stopped abruptly in the hall.

"What are you-"

"One more thing," Snow said, turning around and grinning. "Happy birthday, Emma."

"Happy birthday," Charming said.

"Thank you very much," Emma said, feeling a smile melt over her face. It was so nice to hear this from them, rather than an absentminded muttering from one of her foster parents, when they bothered to learn their kids' birthdays, which was almost never. Besides, she'd tried not to get her hopes up and assume her real parents would remember; it had been awhile. But she was relieved that they did.

They continued down the hall, and Emma could hear the party downstairs. People were laughing, clinking glasses, string music was playing. It was like this book she read in middle school; a really stupid one, about these sisters who lived in a palace that held dances and parties like this one every night, except they were never allowed to attend because they were so young. The whole palace ball thing, anyway. Maybe Emma would have to write a book about this someday.

They neared the grand staircase in the front of the palace, though, right above the ball, and Emma's stomach twisted with nerves. She _hated _being the center of attention. What if she fell down the stairs? What if she brought Charming and Snow down with her? What if they took out a few party guests at the bottom?

There couldn't be any good outcome to this.

Snow surprised her by turning slightly and whispering, "Nervous?"

"No," Emma said, much too quickly.

Snow chuckled. "You'll be fine. I was so nervous at my first ball. Just don't trip." She winked. Emma groaned.

They reached the top of the stairs, and Emma marveled at how strange it was to see her parents standing there so regally, in front of a room full of two hundred-some people that they _ruled _over. How strange it was to know that she, too, would inherit this kingdom, and be expected to learn how to do so. To do it well.

All they had to do was stand there for a moment and people started quieting other people around them and pointing at them, and soon the whole room was nearly silent. Emma's heart pounded; she tried to imagine that she was invisible, that everyone was too busy looking at Charming and Snow to bother glancing at her.

"First of all, we'd like to thank you all for coming tonight," Snow said in a raised voice that wasn't even shouting. Everyone cheered. When they quieted down again, Snow continued. "It's been a long, long way to get back here, to our lives, and I am so grateful that we finally have." More cheering. Emma couldn't believe how much these people seemed to love her parents. They must be a really great king and queen.

She hoped she could be a good princess.

"We would also like to honor our daughter, Emma," Charming said, turning to her, "Who turns seventeen today. Whom we are so proud of, and so happy to be reunited with."

The cheering was even, impossibly, louder than before. Emma felt some of her anxiety melt away. These people weren't scary. This wasn't like facing one of her classes for an oral presentation. This was just a room full of people who she liked, who she hoped liked her.

"Now, please," Snow said, "Resume the ball!"

The string music started up again, and so did the conversations. But most peoples' eyes still lingered on Emma and her parents as they descended the stairs, and Emma was really only looking for one person.

Will.

But she couldn't find him. She followed her parents for a little bit, unsure of how to act and who to talk to, through the masses of swirling, dancing couples, figuring it was expected of her. But Charming surprised her, when Snow was busy talking to someone, by turning and telling her discreetly, "Go find Will."

"Thanks, Dad," Emma grinned, and he watched her, smiling, as she turned to search for him.

She wandered through the crowd, and kept getting stopped by people complimenting her dress, or welcoming her to the kingdom, or wondering how she was adjusting. All very nice people. A few she recognized. But no sign of Will.

When, suddenly, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder.

She whirled around, and sure enough, Will was standing there with an adorable smirk on his face, dressed disconcertingly nice in a black suit and white collared shirt.

"Don't recognize me?" He raised an eyebrow. "Neither did I, when I caught my reflection in a mirror walking in."

Emma grinned. "I hardly recognize myself, either."

"I do," he said, stepping closer. "You're still just as beautiful as the last time I saw you."

Emma's heart pounded. This just wasn't the way teenage boys were supposed to talk. But Will, on the other hand, was no ordinary teenage boy.

"And you're just as . . ."

"Handsome?" Again, he raised an eyebrow. "Charming?"

"Peter Pan-ish," she decided.

"Peter Pan-ish?" He looked amused.

"Yes," she said. "Now, are you going to ask me to dance or not?"

"Do you know how?"

Emma paused. "Probably not the way _you _know how to dance."

"I'll teach you," he said, extending a hand. She took it.

He pulled her close, so fast, she stumbled over her feet.

"Those shoes are much too high for you," he said, so close she could feel his breath on her face. "We'll have to make do."

"Hey, I'm almost your height," Emma realized, struggling to follow his dancing. He'd placed his hand on her waist, and clasped her hand, and she copied everyone else she saw and placed her other hand on his shoulder. Whatever dance they were all doing seemed to be just a series of stepping and twirling, but Emma wasn't the most coordinated of people.

"Oh, yeah?" Will spun her around, probably deliberately much too fast, and she expectedly toppled over backwards. He caught her easily, and smirked as he said, "How about now?"

Emma rolled her eyes as he pulled her back up and they continued dancing around all the other guests, who were doing the same. But, somehow, Emma felt like she and Will were the only people in the room. Like he was the only thing that mattered to her at the moment.

"Emma?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," he said, and her heart nearly stopped. "I love you, and I know I'm not a prince, or probably who your parents expected you to be with, or who _you _expected to be with-"

She cut him off by pulling him close and kissing him, for a longer amount of time than was probably appropriate, considering her parents may well be watching them.

She didn't care.

"I love you too," she said. "And I want you to know, you're exactly who I expected to be with."

She wasn't sure how much sense that made, but again, she didn't care. He smiled, not a smirk, but a genuinely happy grin, and they spent the night laughing as Emma tripped over her own feet. She didn't care.

She was finally happy.


	29. Fairy Dust

**So I've been getting a ton of requests to make a sequel, and instead of making a whole other story, I decided to add on to this one. But everything from this chapter on will technically be a sequel to the first twenty-eight chapters. I hope you like it!**

* * *

**TWO YEARS LATER**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

"Emma, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Emma called back feebly.

"Em, please open the door."

"Never."

"I have a key."

"This door has a _key_?"

His laughter alleviated some of her anxiety. But there was still plenty left.

"All the doors in the palace do. It's the same key. Don't you have one?"

"What do you think?"

"I'm going to use it," Will said. "Unless you'd like to be reasonable and just open the door."

"No reasonable people in here," Emma mumbled.

She knew she should let Will into her room. She knew his presence might calm her down a bit. But he wouldn't understand why she was so afraid to go make a speech in front of the whole kingdom. _He _didn't have crippling stage-fright. Or, at least, she didn't think he did.

"Go away," she called.

"I don't think you mean that."

"I don't."

The doorknob jiggled slightly, and the door itself swung open. Emma stopped pacing her room as Will stood in the doorway, smirking knowingly at her. She had to admit, the whole loose-button-down-and-fitted-pants thing was working for him. Every guy in the Enchanted Forest dressed like he was about to go horseback riding in the 1940's, and the women all wore dresses. Which Emma no longer minded so much; the palace seamstress had made her plenty that weren't horrifically girly and frilly. Those ones were reserved for fancy dinners with other kingdoms' rulers and her parents' parties.

"I'm nervous," she said, struggling to take a deep breath. "I _hate _talking in front of people."

"This is important," he said. "You've never addressed your kingdom before alone, and as their future queen, with your parents out visiting Ariel and Eric . . ."

"I know, I know," she said. "I just wish this problem would have waited to present itself until after they came back."

"This has been going on for a while," Will said. "You know that."

Emma sighed. She'd heard some mentions of it, in her parents' conversations that she wasn't meant to be listening to. The problem facing the Enchanted Forest now was that its fairy dust, and therefore its magic, was being stolen. And no one knew who was behind it.

"This is a major problem," Will said. "Without the fairy dust and its magic, we can't heal people. We can't defend our borders against ogres and trolls. We can't do anything, really."

"So how is pointing this out to everyone going to help?"

"Someone might know some information," Will suggested. "Isn't that what your parents mentioned in their letter from earlier today?"

"Yeah, yeah." Emma lowered her gaze to her feet, then glanced back up at Will hopefully. "Are you sure you don't want to give the speech for me?"

He smiled, and approached her. Easily, as he'd done countless times since they'd met two years ago, he took her face in his hands and, bending down slightly, leaned in to kiss her.

She hadn't really been in the mood, but she also wouldn't dream of objecting.

Will was so familiar to her now, the surprising softness of his lips, the way his blue-green eyes lit up whenever he saw her, how he spent hours and hours in the library every day, sometimes until four or five in the morning. Once she'd joined him, and they'd ended up passed out in the corner by the mystery books, only to be discovered by some palace guard early that afternoon. He'd sworn not to say anything to anyone, but Emma still panicked when he and Charming were in the same room. Not that they'd done anything, but her father may get the wrong idea. He could be a little overprotective.

Will pulled away slightly, still gently cupping her face, and said, "Less nervous?"

"No," Emma laughed. "But that was nice of you."

"Come on," he said, stepping away and extending his hand out to her. "The kingdom's residents are expecting you."

Emma gripped his hand and let him lead her out of the room and down the corridor towards the tower of the palace from which she'd be addressing the kingdom. Her own hand was clammy, and she was practically shaking from nerves. To think she'd been nervous about giving a presentation on _The Scarlet Letter _in English a few years ago. There would be hundreds and hundreds of people watching her today.

She had the sudden, fleeting thought that she wished her parents were there. Snow would know exactly what to tell her to make her feel better about this, and Charming would probably try and fail to say something reassuring, but she'd appreciate the gesture.

But for now, she had Will. And Will was more than enough.

She loved him. She was sure of that. And he loved her; he told her often. She'd had a few boyfriends in high school back in Boston, sure, but none of them had been remotely serious. She took hers and Will's relationship seriously. She wanted it to last.

"Hello, Princess," said one of the guards outside the doors leading to the tower. Both guards bowed their heads slightly to her. "How are you feeling?"

"All right," she said, plastering a smile on her face. "How are you two?"

"A bit cold," he said. "Keeping these doors open and all. It's nearly forty degrees outside."

Emma laughed. "Of all things to bring back here, you took a thermometer?"

The guard shrugged. "It was the only thing I had on me when we were brought back to the Enchanted Forest."

Emma didn't inquire further.

"I'll wait for you back here," Will said. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Emma said, shivering; it was freezing. She'd slipped a coat on over her dress, but what she really needed was a space heater installed in it. She leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips, and then headed through the doors. The guards both followed her.

There was a long, winding stone staircase that led up to the tower's balcony. As she climbed higher, Emma could hear the crowd below. Her stomach turned.

She reached the top and pushed open the heavy wooden door that led out onto the balcony overlooking the lawn at the side of the palace, where it seemed the whole kingdom had gathered. She gasped.

"Not to worry, Princess," one of the guards said. "You're just delivering information."

"Yeah," Emma swallowed. "No big deal."

She hadn't even considered how serious the information truly was; without magic, everyone in the Enchanted Forest would basically be screwed. They used it for everything; it was like their technology. Hardly anyone had their own magic like she and Rumpel did; they would all need fairy dust.

Emma pulled her cloak more tightly around herself and approached the ledge. She knew no one would see her yet, since they were all buried deep in their own conversations. She would have to rely on her own magic to get their attention.

Her voice shook as she, imaging it louder, as if she were speaking into a high-powered microphone, said, "Hello, people of the Enchanted Forest!"

The magic worked; her voice carried out across the field, and everyone turned to look at her immediately. She wanted to sink down into the freezing stone ground.

But these people were depending on her, and the sake of the kingdom depended on her, and disappearing wasn't an option.

"As you all know," Emma said, clearing her throat, and forcing herself to remember to concentrate on keeping her voice amplified, "My mother and father are visiting friends in another kingdom at the moment, so I will be delivering some news to you today."

There was some mumbling in the crowd. Emma continued. "The Enchanted Forest is facing a major problem. Our fairies' dust is being stolen, and if we let this continue much longer, there won't be any left to use."

The crowd erupted into a storm of rage and confused shouting, mostly asking who was taking it.

"I'm so sorry," Emma said, "That we don't know who is behind the thievery. Obviously the fairies have been extremely careful in caring for the dust, but whoever is taking it is powerful and sneaky. Impossible to catch. My parents called this announcement to request that if anyone knows anything of the subject, you please report it to us at the palace. At any time."

"The King and Queen will bring whatever news they have to you as soon as they receive it," Emma promised the crowd, which had begun to grow louder again. "Thank you all." With that, she cleared her throat, and turned back to head down into the palace.

"Well done, Princess," said one of the guards. "You were very, uh, loud."

Emma's throat felt dry and scratchy. Her head spun. She'd barely spoken for two minutes, but at least she'd done it.

She'd barely entered the palace corridor again, grateful for the warmth that hit her from all the fires burning in the palace, when she was ambushed with a massive bear hug.

By her parents.

"We missed you so much!" Snow exclaimed, and Emma would have responded, but she could barely breathe.

"We're sorry we were gone for so long," Charming added. "But it's practically a two-day journey there and back."

Emma tried to mumble something like, "It's okay," in response, but found she couldn't really speak.

They released her and, after finally exhaling, she said, "I missed you guys, too."

"Wonderful speech," Charming said. "Well, not really a speech. It was very short. But I'm proud of you for doing it."

Emma laughed. "It really wasn't anything."

"Oh, we have so much to tell you about our visit," Snow said, linking her arm through Emma's and starting to guide her down the corridor. Emma wondered briefly where Will had gone, but reminded herself that she shouldn't be thinking about him _all _the time. She should focus on her parents now. She was, after all, genuinely excited to see them after their two-week stay with Ariel and Eric. "They have the cutest daughter, Melody . . . she's half mermaid, you know . . ."

* * *

That evening, Emma was heading down to the Grand dining room to meet her parents for dinner. They'd decided to throw a big feast and invite some of their friends, like Ruby and Granny and Hook, to celebrate their return. Everyone in the Enchanted Forest was big on parties and celebrations. She still hadn't seen Will since that morning, which she found quite odd.

Until she passed Charming's study.

The door was cracked open a bit, and she wouldn't have stopped beside it had she not heard Will's voice, something she definitely didn't expect to hear coming from her father's study.

"Thank you, Charming," Will was saying. "I really, truly am grateful."

"I have no doubt you are," Charming said. There was a strange tone to his voice, almost like he was trying to keep something out of it, like suspicion or excitement. Emma had never been great at reading peoples' emotions, though she was an exceptional human lie detector.

"And I appreciate you discussing this with me," Charming said. "You seem like a very well-adjusted young man. Much different from the Peter Pan I'd heard about before the curse happened."

"Thank you," Will said. "I'll take that as a compliment."

There were footsteps towards the door, and Emma froze. Her heart was pounding; she decided to run back off to the corridors with hers and her parents' rooms.

If she was right in what she assumed they were discussing, she needed to talk to someone. Specifically, Snow.


	30. Misunderstanding

**So what do you guys think of the whole sequel thing? I hope I'm not disappointing or being annoying by writing more!**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**

_"Mom!"_

"Emma? Is everything all right?"

"Not really," Emma panted. She'd run all the way from Charming's study to his and Snow's room, and she wasn't in the best shape to begin with. "I think . . . I could be wrong . . . but I think . . ."

"That you're going to pass out?" Snow raised an eyebrow.

"That Will's going to propose to me," Emma finally breathed.

Snow's eyes widened considerably. "You think he's going to _propose_?"

"Yes," Emma nodded, collapsing down onto the bed. "Like, marriage."

Snow cracked a smile, but her eyes still looked panicked. "I gathered that."

"What do I do?" Emma worried. Her mind was racing. Of course, she could have totally misinterpreted the conversation she'd overheard and blown it out of proportion. It wouldn't surprise her. But if she _hadn't_ misinterpreted it . . .

"Well, do you love him?" Snow asked.

"I'm only eighteen," Emma said. "People don't get married at eighteen! That doesn't happen! Not unless you're, I don't know, pregnant or something. Which I'm not," she added quickly.

"Getting married young here is normal," Snow said. "Most people are married by the time they're twenty. It really wouldn't be unusual."

"You didn't get married 'til your mid twenties," Emma pointed out.

"Well, mine and your father's relationship wasn't the most normal," Snow reminded her with a grin. "Anyway, Emma, if you love him, you should say yes. I'm proud of you for following your heart. I think you bring out the best in him."

Emma felt nauseous. She loved Will, obviously, but _marriage_? She hadn't thought she would have to deal with that for so many more years, if at all. It was practically a foreign concept to her.

"Out of curiosity," Snow mused, twirling her freshly braided hair, "What makes you think Will is going to propose to you?"

"He was having this really serious conversation with Dad," Emma said. "And Dad was congratulating him, and everything, and telling him how responsible he was . . ."

Snow furrowed her eyebrows together. "Why would a conversation between Will and your father make you think that?"

"Because where I come from, the guy who's planning to propose to his girlfriend is supposed to talk about it with her dad first, and get his permission, or whatever," Emma explained. "And it sounded like that's what he was doing."

"Well, I guess we'll see," Snow said. "I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you that whatever feels right probably is."

* * *

All through dinner, Emma had a hard time looking at Will. She would replay what she'd heard in the study over and over in her head, and practically stop breathing from the panic it induced.

Twice her father asked if she was all right, and once Will did. Once Ruby did. After five people had questioned Emma's sanity, she excused herself from the table with the excuse of a headache.

She headed for the nearest balcony, where she knew it would be beyond freezing, but maybe the frigid night air would do her some good. Help her breathe.

She'd just begun pacing the balcony that overlooked the now-frozen lake behind the palace when she heard footsteps pounding behind her. She froze.

"Em?" It was Will, as she'd expected. He joined her, lingering in the doorway. "Emma, what's going on?"

"I can't marry you," she blurted. "We're too young and I love you and I know you love me but this doesn't feel right and I'm sorry and if you want to leave then fine I understand."

She was so panicked, everything she said ended up bunched together in one big word, and Will stared at her like she'd spontaneously grown heads.

"Who said anything about _marriage_?" He said. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

Again, Emma froze. A new wave of panic hit her; she was wrong. She had _completely _misinterpreted what she'd heard.

"I . . ." she felt her face flush. "Never mind. Go back to dinner. I'll be there in a minute."

"Wait a minute." He was grinning now, clearly finding amusement in her obvious discomfort. "Really, Emma, I'd like to know what you were talking about."

Emma brushed it off. "Just a joke," she said, but her wavering voice pretty much shattered any chance she had at maintaining her cool. "I can't even remember what I said."

Will stepped closer to her. She could see his breath swirling in the freezing December air, mingling with her own. "You overheard my conversation with your father, didn't you?"

"No," she said too quickly.

"Yes, you did!" He threw his head back in laughter. "Oh, Emma. I wasn't _asking for your hand. _I was informing him of the quest I intend to embark on tomorrow."

Emma was speechless.

"I think I know who's been stealing the fairy dust," he said. "The Lost Boys. I want to travel to Neverland and try to defeat them. I was thanking Charming because he offered his help, his men. He wasn't offering _you_."

"I didn't think that!" Emma protested. "That's ridiculous!"

"But I'm right," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't I?"

Emma lowered her gaze to her boots.

"I love you, Emma Swan," he said, placing two fingers underneath her chin and gently lifting her face up to look at his. "But I'm not any more ready than you are to marry."

"I mean, I suppose _someday _it wouldn't be so bad," she said quietly. "Peter Pan, the King of the Enchanted Forest."

He laughed. "Not bad at all."

"I'm coming with you on this quest," Emma said. "I hope you know that."

"Absolutely not," he said immediately.

"Dammit, Will," she said, "I am perfectly capable of defending myself, all right? I survived being struck with dreamshade! Besides, it's my duty to fight for my kingdom."

"Not yet it isn't," Will said. "This isn't your fight. This is mine and the Lost Boys'. The fewer people involved, the better."

"I disagree," Emma said.

"Too bad."

She didn't like this side of Will, the stubborn, unflinching side that felt the need to be just as overprotective as her father.

"Don't worry about that," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close as they headed back into the palace. "Let's get back to dinner. Maybe you'll actually be able to touch your food now."

Emma forced a small laugh. She didn't want to go sit and eat, though. She wanted to plan how she was going to get to Neverland.


	31. No Regrets

**Chapter Thirty-One**

"I was wrong," Emma whispered to her mother, when they were all returning to their rooms.

"What?" Snow asked quietly.

Emma discreetly pointed to her ring finger. "Very wrong," she whispered.

"Oh!" Snow said, too loudly; Charming finally glanced over from the conversation he was having with one of the palace guards.

"What are you two talking about?" He asked.

"I . . . I was wrong," Emma said. "About . . . dinner. I bet that it would only last three hours. It was four."

Charming laughed. Snow smiled uneasily. So did Emma.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Emma said, before ducking into her room.

"Love you!" Her parents both called down the corridor.

She shut the door behind her and headed for her closet to change into what the Enchanted Forest considered pajamas-which were really just dresses that were slightly less elaborate than usual.

She was emotionally exhausted, and she couldn't wait to crawl into bed and stay there for the foreseeable future.

And plan how she would get herself to Neverland to fight for the Enchanted Forest.

She'd just slipped out of her dress and was reaching for the nearest nightgown hanging in the closer-floor-length, white silk, trimmed with lace-when she felt a gust of frigid winter air rush by her. She gasped and turned to the window, which, to her horror, was wide open. Will stood right in front of it, a corner of his mouth curled into a smirk.

"Will!" Emma shouted in protest, frantically trying to cover herself with the dress she was clutching.

"Pardon me," he said. "Bad timing. Or, as I consider it, excellent timing."

"Leave." Emma pointed to the window. "And stop staring at me!"

"You're beautiful," he said, making any bit of resolve she'd managed to build up at all just evaporate.

"So are you," she teased. "But I don't creepily barge in on you when you're getting dressed."

"Well, you don't frequent the homes at the edge of the palace grounds, do you?" He said.

"Would you like me to?"

"Not particularly," he said. "I doubt you'd ever come visit me undressed."

Emma groaned. "Just let me change, okay?"

"What's the point?" Will leaned against the bedframe. He looked disconcertingly like she'd always imagined a teenaged Peter Pan would look, even though she obviously knew he _was _Peter Pan. He'd told her that since he'd left Neverland, the magic that had once kept him young had ceased working, and that he'd age with her.

And he wondered why she thought he was going to propose to her.

"I've already been staring at you for long enough," he said. "But if you're uncomfortable . . ."

The thing was, she really wasn't. She'd been a little mad that he'd just flown in through the window, and as much as she knew she should, she didn't care that he'd been staring at her in nothing but her bra and underwear for a good two minutes.

"You're leaving tomorrow," she stated. "To go to Neverland, to try to defeat the Lost Boys and win back all of our fairy dust."

"Yes," he confirmed.

"That's dangerous," she said, fingering a stray piece of thread dangling off the sleeve of the nightgown. "Very dangerous."

"Well," he said, casually stepping closer to her, "I won't be alone. Your father offered some of his men to accompany me."

"Still," Emma said quietly. "Is there not a fairly high chance that you could die?"

He paused.

"You weren't going to tell me," she realized. "You didn't want me to worry. You were just going to leave, weren't you? You weren't even going to say goodbye."

"No," he admitted. "I wasn't. But you have to understand-"

"I don't," she said. "And you will never be able to justify lying to me. Is that clear?"

"Very, captain." Jokingly, he saluted her, but she wasn't in the mood to play along.

"I mean it," she said. "You can't keep things like that from me. That's a big deal, Will."

"I'm aware." He was having trouble meeting her eyes, which meant he must be guilty. _Good_, she thought.

"But it wasn't all because of you," he said. "I didn't tell you partly because I don't want to go, all right? I'm afraid. The Lost Boys despise me more than you realize. My staying here has endangered the whole Enchanted Forest; _you're _the people they'll take their anger out on, since they know it will make me angrier than if they were to go after me."

Emma grinned. "You do care about us."

He sighed. "As much as I didn't intend to, you're right." He moved closer to her. And closer. And then he was near enough to put his hands on her waist and pull her close to him. The nightgown slipped from her fingers, and her heart raced as she realized she was standing, practically unclothed, in front of Will.

_Peter Pan._

So much for not wanting to grow up.

His hands were icy on her hips, but they were steady, and she tilted her head up so she could reach his lips. They were cold; he'd obviously been outside for some time. But he was always more gentle with her than she expected him to be, after getting to know the side of him she hadn't seen in Storybrooke, the one more like the Pan from the book.

He kissed her harder, and his grip on her hips was tight, almost like he was afraid of letting go of her. Like he knew things weren't going to go well in Neverland, and they may not see each other again after he left.

The thought panicked her, but she couldn't say anything. She didn't want to.

She leaned back against the edge of her bed for balance, and Will eased her up onto the ledge by her waist, surprising her. He continued to kiss her, and she felt herself leaning backwards as she did so, until she was lying flat on her back, trapped by his arms on each side of her. She smiled, and he pulled away slightly, though she could still feel his breath on her face.

"What is it?" He asked quietly.

"Nothing," she said. She was almost out of breath. But she took hold of the collar of his shirt and pulled him back down to her lips, and they continued to kiss until suddenly Will abruptly pulled himself away, staring down at her in alarm.

"Emma?" He said, his eyebrows furrowed. "I could have sworn I was wearing a shirt two seconds ago."

Emma felt her face flush. He was definitely wearing a shirt two seconds ago. However, she may have been imagining him _not _wearing a shirt, and she might have subconsciously accomplished that thanks to her ever so helpful magic.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to."

He laughed. "It's all right," he said. "Now we're even."

"Not quite," she said, glancing up at him. "You're wearing pants."

"Don't go taking those off with your magic, too," he said.

Emma hesitated. "I want to," she said.

"What?"

"I am _not _going to repeat myself," she said. "And I think you know what I'm asking."

"Emma," he said seriously, "I don't want to do anything you're not ready for."

"I'm eighteen," she reminded him. "I can do what I want."

"There are other things to think about-"

"No, there aren't," she protested. Her head was spinning, but it wasn't cloudy on the subject. It wasn't as if she'd never thought about this before. "Besides, you could die tomorrow. You won't want to do that with any regrets, do you?"

"Do not throw the potential death thing in my face," he said, but he was smiling.

"Come on," she said, trying her best to sound mature and decidedly un-childlike. "Unless, of course, you're scared."

"I'm not scared of anything," he said.

"Oh?"

"Except you," he said, bringing his lips down to her ear. "I'm terrified of you, Emma, and of how you make me feel."

"Good," she said. "Conquering your fears. All the more reason to spend the night."

He stared at her for a prolonged moment before kissing her again and telling her with a grin, "You always get exactly what you want, don't you?"


	32. Responsibility

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

Emma woke up the next morning when it was still dark. She'd expected Will to be beside her, but he wasn't. He was off by her dresser, tugging his clothes back on.

"Shhh," he said. "Go back to sleep."

Emma sat up suddenly, startled. "Are you leaving now? Were you _seriously _not going to say goodbye after that?"

He laughed. "Your father and I have a lot of planning to do about how we're going to go about invading Neverland. I won't leave until tonight."

"Good," Emma said, settling back down against her pillows. She knew she'd been staring at Will for longer than was probably considered normal, but she couldn't help it.

"Do I have something on my face?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," she said, bringing her gaze down to a stray thread on the blanket she was lying on. "I just-"

Two short knocks on the door stopped her.

"Emma?" _No. _"Emma, are you talking to someone?"

"N-no!" Emma stammered, motioning wildly for Will to move into the closet, where he could hide. Panicked, he quickly obliged.

"May I come in?" Charming asked, and Emma waited until the closet door had shut and she'd pulled the blankets up to her chin to reply, "Sure!"

Her heart was still pounding as Charming entered the room.

"Good morning," he said brightly. "How are you?"

"I'm great," Emma said, her voice about eight octaves higher than normal.

"Good," he said, smiling at her. He headed over and lowered himself onto the edge of the foot of the bed. "So, there's something I have to talk to you about, and I don't want you to be upset."

"What is it?" Emma was not in the mood to deal with any issues.

"Will asked me yesterday for my help in sending him to Neverland, to defeat the Lost Boys and get our fairy dust back," Charming said. "And I agreed to give him as many of our men as he needed."

"Okay . . .?" This wasn't new information.

"You're not . . . upset about this?" Charming raised an eyebrow. "About Will going to Neverland to fight the Lost Boys?"

_Oh. _She wasn't supposed to know about it. As far as Charming was concerned, Will and she had parted yesterday right after dinner.

"Oh," she said, playing dumb. "I didn't think about him _fighting."_

"He may be okay," Charming said. "There's not a definite chance that he will lose."

"You're not going, are you?" Emma asked anxiously.

"Oh, no," he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "There are matters to be taken care of here. Besides, this isn't necessarily my fight."

Emma nodded.

"He mentioned that he wanted me to tell you, if anyone," he said. "He wanted me to wait until after he'd left, but I didn't think that would be fair to you."

"Thank you," Emma said.

"He wasn't doing it to lie to you, I don't think," said Charming. "I think he wanted to protect you."

"I want to go," Emma said. Not that she expected her father's consent, but it couldn't hurt to try.

"Absolutely not," Charming said immediately. "That is ridiculous."

"Why?" Emma hoped she didn't sound childish. "Please, Dad. I really want to go. You've proved your bravery to everyone in the Enchanted Forest. They know you're willing to fight for your kingdom, that you're a good ruler. I need to prove myself, too."

"And you will," he said, "When the time is right. Which isn't now."

"I disagree."

"I'm sorry, Emma," he said. "But I cannot let you go to Neverland and risk your life."

"I could fight," Emma said quietly. "I made it out of Neverland alive before."

"Barely," he pointed out.

She didn't have any arguments left.

"I'll see you later," Charming said, standing up. "I've got to find Will and discuss his plans. one of the guards informed me he wasn't in his house this morning."

"Huh," Emma said. "Weird."

"Very," Charming agreed. "Perhaps he's in the library."

"Yes!" Emma said quickly. "Good idea!"

After Charming left, Will waited several minutes before emerging from the closet.

"Damn," he said. "Next time you may want to consider warning me that your father tends to pay you a visit in the mornings?"

"Next time?" Emma raised an eyebrow.

"Warn me," he grumbled.

"That wasn't usual," Emma said.

"Good." Will walked over to her and dropped a quick kiss on her lips before turning and heading for the door. "Then we can do this again."

* * *

Emma had had all day to devise a plan, and she felt pretty good about the one she had.

"Are you sure you don't want to come inside?" Snow asked her. They stood on the hilltop overlooking the docks, where Hook was preparing his ship amongst two others that belonged to the kingdom. Hook had agreed to accompany Will, on the grounds that he sail his own ship and was not responsible for returning Will to the Enchanted Forest, should he not die.

"I'm okay," Emma told her, pulling her cloak more tightly around herself. The sun had just set, and even more cold had settled around them. "I think I'll wait and see him off."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Snow asked. "I feel bad leaving you alone out here."

"I'm fine, really," Emma assured her. "I know you're freezing. Go inside."

Snow smiled, a little sadly, at her before turning and heading back for the palace. Emma waited several minutes before she started moving towards the docks.

There were crowds of uniformed soldiers walking along them, working on the ships. Emma knew she didn't have much more time until they sailed; ten, fifteen minutes at most. And Will was already on Hook's ship, though he was below deck.

Emma was peering over her shoulder, making sure no one was on the docks that would report her presence to her parents, when she collided with something. Someone.

_Hook._

"Good evening," the pirate said, smoothing out his coat.

"Hello," Emma squeaked.

"I thought you already said your goodbyes to Pan," Hook said, eyebrow raised suspiciously at her.

"I-I did," Emma stammered. "I just, you know, wanted to say them again."

"No can do," he said. "We're leaving much too soon."

Emma paused. There was a slight chance that Hook would understand her predicament.

"I want to go," Emma admitted. "I want to fight, and no one will let me. No one takes me seriously. But I can do it, really."

Hook sighed. "I've no doubt that you may be able to aid us in our fight against the Lost Boys, however, your parents would have my head if they knew I consented to this."

"They don't have to know," Emma said. "I'll tell them I stowed away on the ship. That you were too busy to notice. They'll believe that."

"Perhaps," Hook said, seeming to think it over.

"Please," she begged. "Let me help."

"Fine," he grumbled, gesturing towards his ship. "But _you _will be the one answering to your parents when we return."

Emma nodded, and impulsively, she threw her arms around Hook. "Thank you!"

He stood stiffly until she released him. "You do realize that this makes me responsible for you now?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes it does," he said. "It's me who's letting you on the ship. It's me who's going to have to bring you home alive to your parents."

"I can take care of myself," Emma said stubbornly.

"Good, then," said Hook. "And good luck reasoning with your boyfriend."

Emma's nerves crackled as she boarded the ship. She felt a pang of guilt at the thought of her parents sitting in the palace, waiting for her to join them for dinner. Perhaps she should have left a note.

No, she told herself. No, she was eighteen now, and she could do what she wanted.

She would return home to them, alive.


	33. Return to Neverland

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

Huh, Emma thought, staring at herself in the smudged-up mirror below deck on Hook's ship. She'd never imagined she'd be wearing the Enchanted Forest's army uniform-fitted tan pants, navy jacket with gold buttons-sailing to Neverland to fight a pack of Lost Boys over fairy dust.

Will didn't know she was there yet. Hook, agreeing with Emma that it would only throw him off to know she was coming, convinced Will to board one of the royal ships to help guide them to Neverland. They'd all managed to obtain six magic beans-three for all of them to get there, and three for all of them to (hopefully) return. Magic beans weren't exactly as rare in the Enchanted Forest as they were back in Storybrooke.

Emma tied her long blonde hair back into a braid. Neverland was so dark, and things would probably be chaotic. Will may not even know she was there.

She wondered how she'd fight. She was getting better using swords; she'd been practicing with Charming, but she had a feeling he tended to go easy on her. She figured she could use the one thing no one else there had: magic.

The ship lunged forward suddenly, almost like it was tipping upside down, and Emma would have tumbled to the floor had she not grabbed hold of a nearby wooden beam for support. They were entering the portal. They were really going to Neverland.

Soon the ship straightened out, and Emma decided it was time to head above deck, where she could see the island. She couldn't help but remember how terrified she'd been the last time she was on the Jolly Roger. Not to mention freezing. And dying.

This was infinitely better, except for that nagging thought of her parents wondering helplessly where she was. Maybe thinking they'd lost her again.

_Stop_, she told herself forcefully. _You can't think about that. _It would only distract her. She needed to be completely focused, if she wanted to harness her magic well enough to actually use it in defense against anything.

Up on the deck of the ship, Hook and a few other soldiers were rushing about, performing tasks Emma could never quite bring herself to understand. Boats had never interested her, though she'd been trying to be good about learning things about the Enchanted Forest.

She moved to the front of the ship, where she could feel the frigid wind rushing at the ship. She shivered, not only from the cold, but from the ominous sight of Neverland itself; it was shrouded in fog, on top of the fact that it was always dark around the island. The last thing she wanted to do was return there.

"Take this," Hook said, and she nearly jumped from surprise. She turned to face him, and he was offering her a small pouch of something. "Pixie dust," he explained. "I keep some on my ship. It's a bit different from the fairy dust of your kingdom; this will help heal you if you're hit with dreamshade."

"What about all the soldiers?" Emma asked. "Do they have any pixie dust?"

Hook hesitated. "They are committed to risking their lives for their kingdom," he said. "I was a solider once, too. I understand-"

"That's wrong," Emma said. "They should be protected, too."

"Well, Princess," Hook said with a frown, "Not everything works out perfectly here. It would do you well to realize that."

He turned and walked away to steer the ship, and Emma was left speechless. She wasn't an idealist. Not after the childhood she'd had. And though she knew this was wrong, there wasn't anything she could do. Hook was right, maybe. These men knew the risks of accompanying him.

She tucked the pouch of pixie dust into her jacket pocket.

They anchored the ships as close to the island as they could, and started lowering the rowboats into the water they would use to reach the beach. Emma found it odd that there weren't already Lost Boys swarming the coast. They had to have noticed the ships by now. Perhaps they would wait to ambush them until they got to the beach. That would almost be worse, Emma thought; they'd be trapped.

She climbed into the back of one of the boats, with two other men that took over moving it towards the beach. They kept glancing back curiously at her, probably wondering what the princess was doing there.

But Emma didn't say anything. She didn't feel like talking; she was much too nervous. She almost wished she'd just told Will she'd come along, and he either would have been there to comfort her or he would have been angry enough to ignore her. Maybe break up with her. Even after what happened last night.

The boat hit land, and Emma stumbled a little as she climbed off. Being a princess didn't seem to come with any kind of grace or balance.

Pretty much everyone else had reached the beach already. They were standing there, awaiting orders.

When Emma saw Will, her breath caught in her throat. He was standing closer to the treeline than anyone else, peering into them with a telescope, even though it was much too dark to really see anything. He had a weapons belt slung around his waist, and he wore his old Peter Pan clothes.

"Stay here!" He shouted. "They'll come out eventually."

Emma was torn. She knew it would be a bad idea to go up to him; it would upset and distract him, but at the same time, she wanted to talk to him.

No, she decided. Bad idea. Stick to the plan.

She was just glancing back at the water to see if any more soldiers were coming when she felt something zip by her ear. She heard the unnatural whistle of the wind, and felt a pang of dread. It was an arrow.

Then chaos broke out on the beach. Even in the dim light from the soldiers' lanterns and the full, silvery moon, Emma could see arrows flying everywhere, from no definite source. The Lost Boys had to be hiding. All of the kingdom's men had bows and arrows, too, but they just weren't fast enough and couldn't keep up with all the Boys. She saw one soldier fall to the sand, and rushed over to kneel beside him. The arrow had pierced his chest.

"Let me help you," Emma said, fishing in her pockets for the pixie dust.

"You can't," he coughed, "These arrows are tipped with dreamshade."

"I can cure you," she said, and rushed to open the pouch of dust.

"N-no," he stammered between coughs. Blood spattered the sand beside him. "You can't."

"Here." Emma collected a dime-sized amount of dust in her palm, and raised it to his mouth. "You have to swallow this. It _will _help."

He nodded, and she dropped the dust into his mouth. He coughed some more, and she waited a few seconds, ducking to avoid an arrow heading straight for her.

"T-thank you," he said.

"Stay here," she told him. "The dust should hold off the spreading of the poison until we get back to the kingdom, where there's more."

He nodded again, and she felt bad leaving him, but he'd stopped coughing. The dust would help him. There was nothing else she could do.

An arrow landed right beside her foot, spraying sand and panicking her. There were more falling soldiers, but she couldn't possibly help them all. She would be a bigger help by trying to stop the Lost Boys.

But what could she do, exactly?

She planted her feet in the sand, trying to focus. The thing she needed to stop was the arrows. She concentrated on imagining the arrows freezing, just stopping, in midair, before they could hit anyone else.

They did.

Shocked that her magic had actually worked, she looked around, careful to keep the thought at the forefront of her mind. They were all frozen in midair.

Except for the new ones that the Lost Boys were releasing, which she struggled to keep up with.

"What's going on?" Will shouted, looking around the beach. Emma knew he wouldn't be able to see her through the mass of soldiers, but she could see him, and she knew he was starting to suspect something.

Then, suddenly, he did see her: his eyes locked with hers, and widened considerably, and in her panic, she broke concentration. The arrows started falling again. Will started running towards her, and his lips formed her name; he was furious.

Emma started to say something, to defend herself, to start focusing on stopping the arrows again, but suddenly a rough piece of fabric was thrown over and wrapped around her eyes, and strong hands gripped her arms, pulling her towards the trees. She kicked and thrashed, but it was no good. She heard Will's voice shout her name, and that was the last thing before something sharp stabbed her in the arm, and moments later, she blacked out.


	34. Sacrifice

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

Emma woke up dizzy and disoriented; she had no idea where she was. She did feel a throbbing pain in her right arm, and her fingers instinctively went to finger the mark that was left there, and angry reddish-purple patch, like a bruise.

"It's a kind of sleeping medicine," an unfamiliar voice said, and Emma jumped. She was lying on an uncomfortable pile of blankets in what appeared to be a large tent. "It comes on the thorns of some plants on the island, like dreamshade."

The boy talking to her looked a bit older than Will; he was pacing the room, and Emma was unsettled by his presence.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"My name is Felix," he said, a dark smile crossing his face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess."

"My name is Emma," she snapped.

"So I hear," said Felix. "I also hear that you're magic."

"I remember you," Emma realized. "You tried to stop Will-Pan-and I from going to Tinkerbell's. When we came here, two years ago."

"That I did," said Felix. "I see you did not heed my advice."

"Why did you bring me here?" Emma asked.

"You don't know?" He raised an eyebrow. "Your magic, Emma. Everyone wants it. We _need _it, really. Neverland is dying, in a sense. You can save it."

"I thought you already stole enough fairy dust from us to save your precious island," Emma said.

Felix chuckled. "That dust won't do us much good. That was more to lure you here than anything else."

Emma's mind spun. She was already feeling strange enough from the lingering effects of that sleeping drug, but she was having a difficult time wrapping her head around this. She could barely control her own magic. How could she possibly be powerful enough to help save Neverland?

"I can't help you," she said. "I don't know what you're talking about, and I can't help you."

"You'll do what I say," Felix snarled. "I have six Lost Boys outside this tent, ready to kill you. You follow my orders, or die. Is that clear?"

"I would rather die than work for you," Emma said.

He gritted his teeth. He obviously hadn't expected her to fight back at all.

"What about your boyfriend?" He raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't want anything happening to him, would you?"

"You haven't got Will," Emma said. "He'd never let you catch him."

"Perhaps," Felix said. "Or maybe we do. I guess you can't know for sure unless you do as I say."

Emma paused. She didn't trust Felix. But if they _did _have Will, she didn't want to compromise his life on top of her own.

"What do you want me to do?" Emma asked.

"I knew you'd come around."

"I'm not _agreeing_," she snapped. "I simply asked you a question."

"You, Emma, are going to restore Neverland's magic."

"How?"

"It requires all of your magic," he said. "All of it. It is a sacrifice, of course, but without it, we'll be left without a home."

"You can have my magic!" Emma said desperately. "Just let me go!"

"You don't understand," Felix said. "You're the sacrifice. It requires your life."

"That doesn't make any sense-"

"There's a spot on the island," he interrupted, "At which two rare Lost Boys Pan tracked down that had magic have given their lives, to save the island. But there aren't any more of those boys left. So we need you."

"I won't," Emma said. The backs of her eyes burned; she could tell Felix no all she wanted but how was she going to stop them from killing her, really?

"You will," Felix said sternly. "Or Pan will die."

"You'll kill him anyways," she spat.

"And I thought we didn't know each other." Felix smirked at her once more before turning and exiting the tent.

Emma was left to try to piece things together. She didn't entirely know what Felix had been talking about, but she knew one thing: she had to get out of there. She didn't want to die, and certainly not at the hands of the Lost Boys.

But how? He'd said there were plenty Boys outside poised to kill her. Not that they would before it was time to "sacrifice" her; they'd just shove her back into the tent. There had to be another way.

A few weeks after they'd returned to the Enchanted Forest, years ago, Snow had told Emma the story of how she and Charming had finally gotten together. How he first saw her as nothing more than a thief, how she procured some kind of potion from Rumpelstiltskin to make herself forget him, how he saved her life on multiple occasions. How they fought to win their kingdom from Regina, how they'd finally thought they'd found happiness until Regina stormed in on their wedding. She'd asked her mom if she ever gave up hope, and Snow had practically been offended by the question. She told Emma that you could never give up hope, on anything, even when it seemed like there were no options left. Emma had to remember that.

She realized something then that she also had to keep reminding herself: she was magic. If nothing else, couldn't she find a way to magically escape from the tent?

Portaling. Portaling would work. But she'd never done it before, and honestly, wasn't so sure that she could. But she could try, right? Baelfire had portaled her and Will here. She could portal back to the Enchanted Forest.

Emma sat up straight on the pile of blankets she'd been lying on and instantly felt dizzy and a little nauseous, but she tried to push that away. She focused on the dirt floor of the tent, as she'd seen Baelfire focus on the sidewalk back in Storybrooke when he'd made a portal. If he could do it, so could she. She waved her hands around, moving them in big, circular motions, as she'd seen Bae do, too. She imagined a portal taking form there, a swirling mass of purple and blue and smoke. She imagined the Enchanted Forest, though it hurt to think of her parents, unsure of what had become of their daughter. Imagined herself, portaling through to the Enchanted Forest, escaping this damn tent.

And then the portal took form. Just as she'd pictured it. But almost as soon as it appeared, it just vanished.

Emma sat back on the makeshift cot, heavy with defeat. She shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. She needed a magic bean to get out of Neverland, and that was something she didn't have.

Suddenly, she was startled by the sounds of swords clanging together outside the tent. There was some shouting, and she thought she recognized one voice above the other few, but she didn't want to get her hopes up again.

Still, her heart raced as she listened, and eventually it grew quiet outside. The flaps of the front of the tent flew aside, and a very familiar boy poked his head into the room.

"You are very, very reckless," Will said, panting, his eyebrows raised at Emma. "This was a stupid decision. You shouldn't have come."

"I just-"

"Don't apologize," he said. "We don't have time. And also . . ." He surprised her yet again by crossing the tent to take her face roughly in his hands and kiss her, as he had the night before, like he was worried he would lose her. "I love your recklessness." He kissed her again. "And your stupidity."

"Hey," she defended. "Do you want me to just start listing your negative personality traits?"

"No time," he said, grabbing hold of her hand. "More Boys will be here any second. We have to run."

"_Where_?" Emma demanded. "There's nowhere to go. They're swarming the beach; that's where the ships are."

"There are other ways off the island," Will said. "I think you forget who I am sometimes."

She did, she realized, as he led her quickly out of the tent. Her dizziness was slowly subsiding as they ran through the dark, dense jungle. She was always forgetting who he was, that he was Peter Pan, some villain from Neverland. She'd gotten to know him as Will, the quietly intelligent, stubborn boy from Storybrooke. And around her, he continued to be that person. She had trouble thinking of him any other way.

Suddenly something stopped them. It was a Lost Boy-Felix. He leaped out in front of them, blocking their path, and Emma's grip tightened on Will's hand.

"Just where do you two think you're going?" He asked with a smirk.


	35. Trust

**I'm really sorry I haven't updated in a few days; I've been super busy with homework and stuff, but I hope you like this chapter and that it gives you some feels! (Also, I planned and wrote part of this before the last episode aired, so I'm sorry that everything doesn't agree totally with what was on the show, but anything else wouldn't make sense for the story)**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

"Get out of our way, Felix."

Felix chuckled. "You see, Pan, you don't rule Neverland anymore. You left us. Now it's my job to decide the fate of those who cross onto the island. Not yours."

"Take me, then," Will said. "You can have me. Only if you let Emma go."

"You're not magic anymore." Felix narrowed his eyes at him. "Or, perhaps you are. But barely. We need someone powerful. Someone like _her_." He nodded at Emma, who got chills from his creepy look.

Will stepped in front of her defensively. "I didn't want to have to fight like this, Felix," he said. "I just wanted to retrieve the fairy dust."

"Oh, because the Enchanted Forest is so much more precious to you now than your home? Neverland?" Felix raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes," Will said firmly. "Neverland isn't my home anymore."

"Well, forget the Lost Boys," Felix sneered. "As long as you're with your girlfriend, nothing else matters, does it?"

"Oh, shut it," he said. "Let us through. We won't take back any of the dust. We'll just go."

"No," said Felix. "The island needs Emma's life. A sacrifice. And it's going to have her."

"Will!" Emma shouted as two Lost Boys approached her and roughly grabbed hold of her wrists, yanking her to where Felix stood.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking utterly defeated. "Emma, I'm sorry-"

"Don't let him go anywhere," Felix said, pointing at Will. "In fact, bring him with us. He should enjoy the show."

Two more Lost Boys, more uncertainly than the ones holding Emma from running, grabbed hold of Will's arms.

"Get _off_," he snapped, and they practically leaped away from him.

"They work for me now," Felix said. "Not you."

"I know where the beach is." Will narrowed his eyes at him. "I can get there myself."

Felix regarded him suspiciously for another moment. "Fine. Meet us there in twenty minutes. Or I will find you, and I will kill you and all of those who you came with."

Will just glared at him.

"Let me talk to him," Emma pleaded. "Give us one minute."

"Absolutely not."

"I'll go willingly!" She tried. She was desperate. "Please, Felix. I won't fight you anymore. I'll give you my life to save Neverland. Just let me talk to Pan for one minute."

"Hmm," he said. "Making things even more dramatic, aren't you? Fine. You can have one minute."

Emma broke free from the Lost Boys and threw herself at Will, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"I'm going to save you," he whispered. His own arms, around her back, practically suffocated her, but she didn't care. "I swear, Emma, I won't let you die here."

"Don't worry about me," she whispered back. "Get back to the Enchanted Forest, okay? Make sure you save as many people as you can. Thank Hook for me. And tell my parents that I'll miss them, okay? Please?"

"No," he said firmly. "No, Emma, you're not going to die."

"And I love you," she said. "Just remember that."

"Stall with them," he said, his voice wavering slightly. He was just as scared as she was. "Stall for as long as you can, alright? I'll work as quickly as I can."

"Will-"

"I love you too," he cut her off. "Don't die on me before I have a chance to save you."

"Don't tell me what to do."

Before either of them could say anything else, the Lost Boys wrenched Emma away, and as she was forced to walk along with them, she felt the backs of her eyes burning, her throat tightening, but she refused to cry in front of these people. In front of anyone.

Will had said he was going to save her. She would hold onto that. She had to believe him.

A few weeks after they'd all returned to the Enchanted Forest, Emma had asked her mother about how her and Charming had gotten to be together. She kept hearing other people reference how tumultuous their relationship was for so long, that it took so much for them to realize they were meant to be together and even more for them to be _happy _together. Emma had been impressed by the story. There was certainly no question of whether or not her parents loved each other.

"Did you ever lose hope?" Emma had asked Snow. "You know, when you thought you weren't going to get to be with him?"

"I suppose I did once," Snow had replied, though she looked saddened by it. "You know, when I tried to erase my memories of him. But that was a terrible thing to do. You can never lose hope, Emma. If I teach you anything, I want it to be that."

Emma resolved to follow her mother's advice and to not lose hope, no matter how desperate she was. If Will said he would save her, she had to believe that he would.

It took them approximately ten minutes to get to the beach Felix had mentioned, by Emma's count. She guessed she could use magic to try to get herself out of this, but that required concentration, and she was much too panicked to focus on anything. Plus, what could she do, really? Portaling wouldn't work. There was nothing else magical that could help her to escape the Lost Boys.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Felix said, stopping everyone at the edge of the treeline.

Emma couldn't deny that the sight was, in a way, beautiful. The nearly full moon illuminated the dark waves lapping at the shore and the pearly white sand. In the middle of the beach, though, there was a circle of oddly blue-colored rocks sprinkled with something sparkling-fairy dust?-around a big, circular slab of rock. If Emma looked closely, she could see that the moon's light was shining nearly directly towards the rock.

"Legend has it that, hundreds of years ago, the inhabitants of Neverland killed the only magic one among them to instill magic in the island," Felix said. "It was under a full moon, as this is supposed to be, on that rock."

"Why would they kill him on a rock?" Emma asked.

"It doesn't matter," Felix said. "The point is that it worked then, and it will work now."

Emma remembered what Will had said. _Stall. _But how could she put off her own murder? Felix was dead-set on doing it, and they were so close.

"I wonder where your precious boyfriend is," Felix spat at Emma. "I suppose we'll just have to go on without him."

"Wait!" Emma said quickly, when the Boys started shoving her towards the beach, and that stupid rock she was supposed to be killed on. "You can't," she said. "Not yet."

"The deal was you wouldn't put up a fight," Felix sneered.

"I'm sorry," Emma said. "But he should be here."

"And why do you think that?"

Emma sighed. She didn't want to say any of this, but she knew it would be the best way to throw the Boys off. "He was wrong to leave you," she said. "Wrong and selfish. Very selfish."

Felix raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think?"

"Yes," Emma lied. "Yes, it is. There's no way he can make up for everything he's done, just by saving the people in the Enchanted Forest. He's no hero."

Felix smirked. "It's such a shame I have to kill you. We're just finding things we have in common."

"I'm with you all," Emma said. "I . . . I care about Pan, but he's exactly as you said he is. And I know he cares for me too. So seeing me die will hurt him, more than anything."

"I think you're right," Felix said. "Maybe we'll wait a few minutes."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief that she hoped wasn't audible. Yet she felt a pang of guilt for how she'd spoken about Will; she hadn't meant any of what she'd said. She did think Will was a hero. She did think he was the good guy.

Several minutes passed, though, and there wasn't any sign of him. Emma was growing anxious. She had no other way to stall, no other arguments.

"As much as I agree with what you've said, this is a timely matter," said Felix. "We can't let the moon get any lower. Supposedly, if it isn't shining directly on the rock, it won't work."

"But-"

"No more protesting," Felix cut Emma off. "Bring her to the rock."

The Boys roughly shoved her forward. Emma's heart raced. How was she supposed to stop this? Could she?

Anxiously, she glanced around her for any sign of Will or Hook or a soldier, but there was no one.

She reached the circle around the rock.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," she said, resisting entering the circle. "Please, Felix, I feel the same way you do. Waiting is the right thing-"

"Enough!" He snapped, his exasperated voice echoing through the otherwise still night. "Onto the rock. Someone get me a dagger."

A dagger. He was going to _stab _her to death. Was there a worse way to die?

Emma tried to resist them again, but her strength was no match for the Lost Boys'. They shoved her like she was nothing more than a doll onto the slab of rock, and she fell ungracefully to her knees. She heard them nearly crack from the impact; she didn't cry out, for she knew Felix would only find pleasure in her discomfort.

"Stand up," he ordered, casually holding a dagger one of the Boys had handed to him. Like it was nothing. Like he wasn't going to use it to kill her momentarily.

Emma knew she was supposed to hope, to believe in Will. But he was out of time. And he hadn't saved her.

The realization crushed her; so did the thought of her parents. She'd vowed to herself that she would return to the Enchanted Forest, not for herself, but for them. All they'd ever wanted was to be reunited with their daughter, and it was so selfish of her to take that away from them.

_I love you guys. _

_I'm sorry._

Then her thoughts returned to Will.

_I love you too._

_I'm sorry._

Slowly, she rose shakily to her feet.

Felix raised the dagger.

But before he could bring it down on Emma, his body made an unnatural lurching motion backwards, and he gagged, and fell to his knees.

"What's going on?" One of the Lost Boys shouted, panicked, glancing furtively around the beach. Then, suddenly, he recoiled like he'd been punched in the stomach by some kind of invisible force, and collapsed onto the sand.

Emma was speechless.

"Pan . . ." rasped Felix, coughing. Blood sprayed from his mouth. "Pan . . ."

"What about him?" Emma demanded, kneeling beside him. "Felix, what's going on?"

"Can't . . ." he coughed again. Emma cringed. He pitched forward, catching himself with his hands. "Magic . . . " He reached for the dagger that had fallen from his grip seconds ago. His fingers loosely closed around it, and he crawled towards Emma, weakly wielding the weapon.

She backed up, nearly stumbling over her own feet as she stepped off of the rock. Felix gave a final, wrenching cough and collapsed face-first onto the stone, and was still.

Emma's heart pounded; she couldn't breathe right. The four Lost Boys that had dragged her here were all getting beaten up, brutally, but there was _no one there. _Emma had never heard of anything like this happening in Neverland, even from all the stories her parents and other people in the Enchanted Forest had told her. Was this violent, seemingly invisible force new?

"I told you."

The whispered, familiar voice tickled her ear. Emma, with a gasp, whirled around to see none other than Will standing right behind her.

"What . . ." she couldn't form a proper sentence. "What are you . . . what is going _on_ . . ."

"Calm down," he said gently. "It's me, Em, it's me. You're fine."

"But-"

"I found the Boys' stockpile of fairy dust," Will said. "It's very helpful. Especially when you want to turn you and three other men invisible to stop the Lost Boys from murdering your girlfriend."

"I can't believe you."

"Have we really regressed to the whole not-believing thing again?"

Emma reached out and punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

"What was that for?" He winced.

"You waited until the last second!" She cried. "He was seconds away from killing me!"

"Well, it took me a few minutes to find the dust," Will said. "They don't just keep it under a big flashing sign that says, _here's the magic._"

Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

"I did save you," he said. "Even though I heard what you said."

Emma's stomach fell. "Will . . ."

"I know you were just saying it to stall for time with Felix," he said. "But you were awfully convincing."

Emma felt terrible. She wanted to step forward and kiss him, or place a reassuring hand on his arm, or do _something. _But he looked too hurt, and for the first time in years, she was scared of him again.

"I'm sorry," she said instead. "I thought it was the only way to get some more time, to make Felix think that I believed in what he did. It was stupid, and wrong of me to say even if I was lying, and I'm sorry."

"It's the truth," he said. "I'm not a hero."

"Hey," she said, managing a small smile, "What about the whole damsel-in-distress thing? You can check that off your list. You're halfway there."

"Oh, yeah?" He returned her smile. "What else do I have to do?"

"Well, you killed the villain." She nodded at Felix. "So I'd say all that's left is becoming the ruler of a kingdom."

"There's only one way to do that," he said. "Oh, wait. I don't want you to get the wrong idea and think I'm proposing again."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"Make me."

She stepped towards him just as he stepped towards her, and he took her face in his hands and kissed her, less urgently than before, less as if he was afraid they would lose each other soon.

Emma felt herself grin against his lips.

"That no fooling around rule applies to the beach as well."

They both practically leaped away from each other at Hook's voice.

The pirate, a bloody gash across his forehead, stood at the treeline. The fairy dust was starting to wear off the soldiers, and they stood proudly over the fallen-but not, it seemed, dead-bodies of the Lost Boys.

"We've loaded up the ship," Hook said. "Now, let's go home."


End file.
